


No, Not a Metahuman, Just Soccer Practice

by fallingleaves



Series: Chronicles of the Allen Children [7]
Category: The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Blood and Injury, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Injury, M/M, Medical Inaccuracies, Medical Procedures, Medical Trauma, Pain
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-26
Updated: 2017-04-22
Packaged: 2018-09-12 07:06:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 27,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9061609
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingleaves/pseuds/fallingleaves
Summary: Barry and Len are married, and because I'm crazy, they have not one child, but five.  Lucas is a speedster like Barry, and as such, cannot get anesthetics or painkillers of any kind.  He tears his ACL while at soccer practice, and needs surgery.This goes along with the other stories of their family that I've written, but can definitely be read alone.  While it will feature all of their children, the story is very focused on Barry and Len and how they react to the situation.  Please see warnings inside.





	1. Surgery

**Author's Note:**

> For background info, Barry and Len are married and Len has ice powers. They have one giant sort of extended family of Joe and Iris and Eddie and Caitlin and Cisco and Mick and Lisa. Eddie is alive, and married to Iris. Wally didn't exist when I started writing this series, so hasn't shown up before, but I like him so he might make an appearance in this one. I'm ignoring Eobard Thawne/Dr. Wells/second Dr.Wells/Zoom/Savitar/whoever the hell shows up next's existence. (Also, I'm sure I'm being terribly medically inacurate with this - please just roll with it)
> 
> WARNING: while this fic does not get as graphic on the actual injury as some of my other ones, it is very graphic on the characters' reactions, and some of those reactions, especially Lucas's, could be very disturbing to some people. This story depicts a very distressed, very scared 15 year old who is in a lot of pain, and is not on board with his treatment. Please keep that in mind when going forward and don't read this if you think you will find that overly distressing. When I put in the hurt/comfort tag, I mean that to the max. There is a lot of "hurt" in here, especially in this first chapter (there will also be just as much comfort, don't worry, but please be careful with the "hurt" part of it). 
> 
> And for this fic:  
> Michael 17  
> Lucas and Leah 15  
> Wentworth 12  
> Cyrus 11
> 
> Anyway, here's the story, hope you enjoy :)

The first time Lucas needed surgery, it was at about the worst possible time it could have been at. 

            Lucas was fifteen and Michael was sitting in the parking lot in his car, waiting for Lucas’s soccer practice to finish because his idiot brother had forgotten to take a calorie bar with him and now couldn’t run home.  The only reason he was there anyway was because Barry had noticed Lucas’s calorie bar, which he set out on the kitchen table, still there, and then called Lucas and forbid him to run home.  But Len was on a business trip in Starling and Barry had gotten called in to work, and then there Michael was, waiting for said idiot brother to finish his soccer practice so he could get home instead of waiting in the dump of a parking lot that was the school’s fields parking.

            He was on his phone, texting a friend about how he got stuck playing chauffer again (he swore to God, if he had known that his Dads paying for his car meant he’d be guilt-tripped into providing constant pick up and drop off services, he would have just gone without it).  He wasn’t paying attention, but then he heard a loud noise and looked up. 

            Someone was on the ground on the field, and he frowned.  His phone vibrated and he looked back down at it, quickly typing out a reply before looking back up.  There were people around the kid on the ground now.  He frowned again.  That couldn’t be good.  There was a bit of commotion.  One parent got out of their car and started walking over.  Michael’s eyes were drawn to them, and when he looked back again at the scene on the field he saw one of the guys on the team next to the coach, pointing right at his car.

            Michael got a sick feeling in his stomach, and got out of the car.

            He scanned the group of players, most of them crowded around the figure on the ground.  He couldn’t see the kid on the ground, they were blocking him, but as he looked at the guys walking around, recognizing some of them, not recognizing others, but none of them Lucas, his stomach tightened farther.

            He walked right by the rest of the players and pushed his way around one of the guys before kneeling, and sure enough it was Lucas on the ground.  Michael put a hand on his shoulder, holding firmly.

            “Luke,” he said.

            Lucas’s eyes opened.  His face was red, and he had one knee bent in the air, his other leg at an awkward angle.  Michael’s eyes scanned over him quickly, the speed force mixing in his thoughts as he assessed him quickly.  Nothing was obviously broken, he wasn’t bleeding, and there were no marks on his body yet.  He bruised fast, remarkably fast with his speed healing, and it would probably only be a few minutes before it started to show wherever he was hurt.

            But his face was blotchy, a look Michael had learned to recognize meant he was in pain – pale from shock, red from strain.  Lucas closed his eyes again, letting out a harsh gasp.  He had a hand on his knee, the one that was bent a little awkwardly at his side.  It wasn’t awkward in the sense that anything was sticking out or at a wrong angle, like it was broken, but it was an odd position to leave it in.

            The coach was on his other side, closer to the leg Lucas had a hand on.  One of the guys ran up with ice and the first aid kit.

            “One to ten?” Michael asked. 

            “Eight,” Lucas gasped.

            Michael took in a breath, nodding.  “Where does it hurt?”

            “Knee,” he said, face screwing up again in pain.

            “Do you think you can walk, Luke?” the coach asked.

            Lucas shook his head.

            “Broken?” Michael asked softly, so the coach didn’t here.  Lucas looked over.

            “I – not – I don’t know.  Did-didn’t hear a…”

            Michael just nodded.  It didn’t look obviously broken.

            He looked up at the coach then.  “Can you help me get him to my car?” Michael asked.

            “I think he needs an ambulance,” the coach said.

            “I’ll take him to the hospital,” Michael lied.

            “You’re his brother?” the coach asked.  Michael nodded.  “Alright,” he said, “make sure you call your parents.  Looks like he probably tore something.”  The coach gave Lucas’s shoulder a squeeze.  “You OK with that Luke?  Or do you want an ambulance?”

            Lucas just looked over at Michael.  He shook his head at the coach.

            They got him into the car.  It was a struggle.  Lucas went tight-lipped with pain, almost silent as they got him into the car.  They all but carried him really.  Michael called Caitlin once they got in, as he pulled out of the lot.  Lucas was breathing shallowly in the backseat.

            Once he got off the phone with Caitlin he called Barry, but it went to voicemail.  He tried calling again with the same result.  He called Leah then, to let her know what had happened and that they wouldn’t be coming back home right then.  She wanted him to go pick her up but it was in the opposite directing, and someone had to stay with Wen and Cyrus anyway.  Caitlin and Cisco had a stretcher waiting when they got there, so it was much easier to get Lucas into the building than it was getting him off the field.

            Michael stayed next to Lucas, one hand on his shoulder, while they brought him in and prepped the MRI.  He knew Lucas was scared, knew he was afraid of medical procedures, but didn’t really know how to comfort him.  Watching him in pain was hard, but this wasn’t the first time Michael had been with him when he got hurt.

            They did an X-ray and an MRI.  Lucas hated them, usually protested and whined the whole time he was waiting to get in, and the fact that he was silent this time told Michael he really was in pain.

            It didn’t take long.  The bone wasn’t broken, but his ACL was torn, and it was already healing improperly.

            Caitlin touched Lucas’s shoulder and said, as calmly and gently as possible, “I’m going to have to do some work on your knee, Lucas.”

            Michael felt his stomach clench.  By the time Lucas opened his mouth he had a half dozen scenarios and images running through his head about what that meant.

            “W-work?” Lucas said.

            Caitlin nodded, and Lucas looked at her, and then paled.

            “Is it – sur-surgery?”

            Caitlin took a long breath, and Lucas started shaking his head, going deathly pale.

            “No,” he said.  He looked from Caitlin to Cisco to Michael and back.  “No,” he said again, “no, I – there has to be s-something else.”

            “I’m sorry, Lucas,” Caitlin said.  “it’ll be easiest and require the least amount of work if I get it done soon, so we’re going to prep you, and then we’ll start.”

            They wheeled him into the surgery room.  Michael had taken his hand after Caitlin told him.  Lucas was still deathly pale, and he was breathing shallowly.  They transferred him to another bed, which was really more a counter with a two inch mat covered by a plastic sheet.  Cisco got Luke a pillow and gave him some water, before getting a TV screen set up.  Michael tried to distract him with picking out a show from Netflix, but Lucas was almost completely silent.

            When they were ready Caitlin took a deep breath, and then got out the restraints.

            It wasn’t until then that Lucas started to cry.  He looked at the devices in confusion, and then when Caitlin calmly explained she was going to stabilize his leg, before wrapping cuff-like straps around his thigh and calf, and Lucas realized what she meant and tried to pull away.

            “Easy,” Michael said, just as Lucas reached over to try to stop Caitlin.  He and Cisco caught his hands.  “Easy,” Michael said again, “it’s OK – it’s OK, Luke.”

            “She’s just stabilizing your leg,” Cisco said, “if you move it even an inch you could mess stuff up, so we need you to be completely still.”

            “I don’t want to,” Lucas cried, “I – stop – stop, _let go_.”

            “It’s OK, Luke,” Michael repeated, rubbing his back as he tried to sit up.  “It’s OK.”

            “Michael,” Lucas said, “no, I – no, please, just wait – wait, Aunt Caitlin, wait.”

            Caitlin smoothed back Lucas’s hair, keeping her hand there for a moment.  “I’m sorry, Luke.  I have to do it now, or it’s just going to take longer to fix.”

            “I want Da,” Lucas said, crying now, voice cracking “I want Da and Dad.”

            “Da’s in Starling,” Michael said, “we could call him, but he’s away.  I don’t… I tried calling Dad.  He didn’t answer.  Do you want me to try again?”

            Lucas nodded and Michael pulled out his phone, but it went to voicemail again.  It had to be dead or off, Michael thought – Dad always answered the phone.

            “I can call Da,” Michael said, “or I can see if Aunt Iris or Grandpa Joe or Aunt Lisa can come?”

            “Aunt Iris,” Lucas said.

            So Michael called, and she answered, but she was across town, out to dinner with Eddie, and wouldn’t be there for forty-five minutes at least.  While Michael had Lucas at least semi-distracted Caitlin fitted his leg with restraints and attached ankle and wrist ones to the table, but not to Lucas.  She would wait until they needed them to put them on.

            “Call Dad again,” Lucas said, so Michael did, and when it went to voicemail again Lucas started crying harder.

            “I’ll call Da,” Michael said, desperately, doing anything he thought would help now.  He dialed the number, it rang three times, and then he picked up.

            “Hello?”

            “Hi Da,” Michael said, letting out a shaky breath.  “I’m uh – I’m gonna put you on speaker – we’re – you don’t happen to be on your way back yet are you?”

            “I’m on the highway,” Len said, “but still over an hour from home.  Why?”

            “Well, uh,” Michael said, switching to speaker, “I’m um – I’m at Star.  With Lucas.  He tore his ACL.”

            There was a beat of silence.  “Is your Dad there?”

            “No,” Michael said.  “His phone keeps going to voicemail.”

            He heard a breath over the line.  “Is Lucas there?”

            “He’s right here,” Michael said, and he held the phone down, closer to him.

            “Da,” Lucas said.  His voice shook.

            “Hey, Lukey,” Len said, “Michael said you hurt your knee.”

            Lucas let out a harsh, abrupt sob.  “It – she’s – sh-she’s gonna do _surgery_.”

            “I know, Lukey,” Len said, his voice quiet.  “It’s gonna be OK, alright?  You’re gonna be OK.  How’d you get hurt?”

            “S-soccer,” Lucas said.

            “Hm,” Len said, “so no crazy metahumans, huh?  Did you at least win?”

            “I-it was practice,” Lucas said.

            Len sighed over the line.  “Well, if your brothers ask, you should tell them you defeated a crazed metahuman hell-bent on destroying the city.”

            That almost got a laugh, but then Caitlin set up a screen so Lucas couldn’t see what she was doing with his knee and Lucas whimpered.

            “It’s gonna hurt, Da,” he said.  His voice was rough, almost hoarse-sounding.  “I – I don’t – it’s gonna _hurt_.”

            “I know Luke,” Len said.  His voice was soft over the line.  “You just have to remember this is going to end, OK?  You’re going to be OK.  It won’t last forever.  It’ll end, and Mikey will stay right with you, and I’ll be there soon too, OK?  I’ll be there when it’s over, and we’ll take you home.  We’ll do something fun tomorrow, OK?  And I’ll get Lis or Aunt Iris or Grandpa Joe to pick up ice cream and stuff.  This isn’t going to last forever – it’ll all be over soon.”

            “I-I’m scared, Da.”

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “it’ll be OK.  Just focus on Michael, OK?  And on my voice.  It’s going to be OK.”

 

 

 

            It wasn’t OK. 

            Caitlin came around, smoothed back Luke’s hair again, and rested a hand on his shoulder.  “Is there anything else you need Luke?” she asked.  “Water, or a blanket or anything?”

            Lucas shook his head.  He glanced over at Michael, and then back again.

            “I’m going to start then, Lucas.”

            He shook.  Trembled.  Michael gave his hand a squeeze.  “It’s OK,” he said, “you’re going to be fine.”

            “I don’t want it to hurt,” he said, and his voice was tiny.  It was the most vulnerable Michael could remember ever seeing him, and that confession – Lucas didn’t usually talk about injuries.  Michael had been with him before when he got patched up but he rarely ever talked about it afterwards, ever talked about how it scared him, how he was in pain, and even when he was getting seen to he usually wasn’t very vocal about the fear or pain then either.

            “I know,” Michael said, “I’m sorry you have to go through this, Luke.  I’m gonna stay right here with you the whole time, OK?  I’m gonna be right here.  Just look at me, OK?”  Lucas nodded at him, his mouth wavering, another sob in his throat.

            “I’ll get started now, Luke.  I’m going to go as fast as I can.  You’re going to be OK,” Caitlin said.  She gave Lucas’s shoulder one last squeeze, and gave him a tight smile, and moved around the screen.

            “Oh, God,” Lucas said.  He squeezed his eyes shut and his hand tensed in Michael’s.

            “Just try to relax,” Michael said, “take deep breaths, Luke.  You’ll only make it worse tensing up.  Just take deep breaths.  You’re gonna be fine.”

            “Lucas,” Caitlin said, “I want you to take a deep breath in now, OK?”

            Lucas took a deep breath.

            “And let it out now.”

            He only got a second into letting it out when he suddenly tensed, a harsh yelp coming out of his throat.

            “Breathe,” Michael said.  “Just let it out, Luke.  Breathe out.”

            It came out shaky, and Lucas was twisting, jerking Michael’s hand forward with the movement.  He squeezed his eyes shut and his face contracted again.

            “ _Ow,_ ” he said, “ow – ah – _ow_.”  He opened his eyes suddenly, turned to Michael.  “It – it – fuck, ow –”  He squeezed his eyes shut again, ducking his head.  “ _Ow, ow, ow, ow._ ”  Each noise coming out of his mouth sounded more wet, more racked, like he was trying to control himself and losing more and more with each word.

            “That’s good, Luke.  You’re doing great for us.  Can you take another deep breath?”

            Lucas looked at Michael again, and the stark fear there – it had Michael’s blood running cold.  He grabbed onto Lucas’s hand with his free one, leaning forward more. 

            “It’s OK,” Michael said, “take a deep breath, Lucas.  Take a deep breath for Aunt Cait.”

            Lucas took a long, racking breath in, there was a pause, and then he screamed.

            His eyes squeezed shut and Michael’s hands were wrenched forward, as Lucas jolted, sitting up, before collapsing back down a moment later.  He clenched his teeth shut, his other hand a fist, whimpers coming up his throat.  His hands started to vibrate.

            “Ow – Jesus,” Michael said, hand ripping free as Lucas threatened to give him friction burns on his hand.  He moved to hold Lucas’s arm instead, one hand on his wrist, the other on his shoulder.  “Easy,” Michael said, “easy, it’s OK, Luke.  Just breathe through it.  Ride it out.  It’s OK.”

            Lucas opened his eyes a minute later, breathing shallowly, tears sliding down the sides of his face.  He flinched, and whimpered again.

            He was looking at Michael again. “It hurts, it hurts, it hurts, _it hurts_ ,” he said.  He ended with a sob, shaking his head.  “Ow – _ow_.”

            “You’re OK,” Michael said.  “It’s OK.  It’ll stop.  Just breathe through it.”

            Lucas shook, a mix of violent trembling and vibrations.  He squeezed his eyes shut again and Michael wiped the sweat off his forehead, leaving one hand in his hair.

            “You’re OK,” he said, “you’re OK.  It’s gonna be over soon.  You’re doing great.”

            Lucas kept his eyes shut, hands clenched to fists, twitching and flinching and yelling, most of them cut off to end in sobs or whimpers instead.  Len took over, trying to talk to Lucas over the line, trying to distract him.  For the next few minutes Lucas stayed silent like that.

            Then there must have been a particularly nasty bit, because Lucas’s eyes opened as he let out a scream, and he jolted upwards and then started thrashing.

            “Easy, just – Luke, it’s OK, it’s OK – just relax, breathe – easy,” Michael said, grabbing at his wrists to keep him from hurting himself or interfering with Caitlin. 

            Lucas twisted from side to side, shaking his head, mouth open, tears running down his face.  His expression was so twisted up in pain, was so agonized, and he wasn’t focusing on anyone or anything anymore but the pain, and Michael fought to get his attention.

            “Here – Luke – Luke, look at me.  Look at me, right here.  Keep your eyes on me, I’m right here.  Shh, easy, just breathe.  It’s OK –”

            “It _hurts_ ,” Lucas sobbed.  He was shaking so hard, was hyperventilating, choking on air.  “C-cait – Aun- Aunt Cait, please, it – _please_.”

            “I’m going as fast as I can for you, Luke,” Caitlin said, popping over from the other side of the sterile drapes for just a moment.  “Keep looking at Michael, OK?  Keep taking deep breaths now.”

            “Da –” he sobbed, “Da, it hurts – Mike, I wan- I want Da-a.”

            Michael didn’t know whether he meant he wanted Da there or he wanted the phone but Michael picked up the phone and moved it closer anyway.

            “Lukey – Lukey, I’m here,” Len said over the line, “Lukey, I need you to try to take deep breaths, OK?  I can hear you breathing way too fast there – try to focus on taking deep breaths, it’ll help, I promise, Luke.  I’m gonna be there soon, OK?  It’s gonna be over soon, Lukey.”

            “D-Da it – it – I – _ahh_ , it – please – oww, _help_ – _Da_ –”

            “It’s OK,” Michael said, and he had one hand on his shoulder and the other against Lucas’s face, to keep him looking at him.  “Breathe – Luke, breathe, with me, OK?  Like this, breathe –”

            Michael took a couple exaggerated breaths, trying to let it out slowly.  Lucas tried to copy him for about all of five seconds, then he tensed and screamed again, eyes screwing shut before opening twice as wide, panicked.

            “Breathe,” Michael said.  “It’s gonna make it not hurt so much, Luke.  It’s gonna make the pain go down.  Focus on breathing.  Breathe with me.”

            “Deep breaths,” Len said over the line, “look at Michael, take deep breaths.”

            “I c-can’t,” Lucas said, but he tried anyway,

And then suddenly he was tearing at the screen in front of him, kicking out with his good leg.

            “No – no, stop, it _hurts!_ ”

            Michael lunged for his arms as Cisco came back around to that side of the screen, pressing Lucas’s shoulders down.

            “No, stop – it’s too much – I _can’t_ – stop, please.”

            Cisco pushed him down against the bed.  Len was near yelling over the line. 

            “Luke, just – Luke breathe, it’s OK, breathe,” Michael said.  “Please calm down,” he said, and he felt a sudden lurch of his stomach.  “Please, Lukey, it’s OK.  It’s OK, you’re OK.”

            “No – no, it hurts, it hurts, _stop_ – I wa-anna stop, _ple-ease_ , stop doing this to me!”

            “Luke, we gotta let Cait finish,” Cisco said, “I’m sorry.  Try to breathe, Luke.  Come on, just breathe.”

            “No – no, no,” Lucas said, “Un-uncle Cisco, stop.  I _can’t_.  You h-have to stop, _please_.”

            Michael watched as Cisco took one of Lucas’s hands, and brought it down, wrapping the restraint around his wrist.  Lucas screamed.

            “Don’t – no, don’t – you can’t – stop!”

            “It’s to help you,” Michael tried to say.  “Luke, just focus on me, OK?  I’m right here, just focus on me.”

            But Lucas wasn’t paying any attention to him.  His eyes were glazed over as he screamed, tears running down his face.  Cisco got his other hand strapped down as well.  He fought against it, chafing his wrists on them even though they were padded, trying to rip them out.  He vibrated, but they were designed for speedsters.

            After that it was the same.  Lucas yelled and begged them to stop and Michael and Len tried to talk to him, to say anything to help, but it was like he didn’t hear them.  Caitlin blocked it out, knew the sooner she finished the sooner this would end for him, so she focused on that and didn’t let herself focus on anything else.

            It was grueling, and it was long.  The surgery took a little over an hour.

            Iris arrived towards the end.  By then Lucas was only half-conscious, crying out and pulling at the restraints, eyes glazed over from pain.  Eddie went to find Barry, and when it was over, as Caitlin was undoing the restraints and Lucas was still semi-conscious, whimpering and fidgeting restlessly, he arrived in a blur and a gust of wind.

            “Lucas,” he said, his voice quiet, and then he was suddenly standing next to the table, at Lucas’s side, one hand in Lucas’s, the other against his face, and he was shaking.  “Lukey, I’m here.  Dad’s here.  I’m so sorry – I’m so, so sorry, Luke, I’m here, it’s OK – it’s OK.”

            Michael watched in shock as he saw tears fall from his father’s face, as he held Lucas’s hand in a death grip, as he shook.  Iris was at his side in a second, hands on Barry’s shoulders, pulling him away.

            “Barry,” she said, “come here – _Barry_.”

            “ _No_ ,” he said, his voice sharp as he shook off Iris, touching Lucas’s face gently.  “I’m here, Lukey.  I’m here.  It’s OK, now.  It’s OK, I promise.”

            “Barry,” Iris said again, “come with me, Barry.”  He shook his head, holding Lucas’s hand tightly, ignoring her.  Barry was still shaking.

            “Dad?” Lucas mumbled.  His eyes opened, his face covered in sweat.  Another tear ran down the side of his face.  “Dad, it hurts.”

            “I know, Lukey,” Barry said, “I know – it’s OK.  It’s all done now.  It’s all over, it’s OK, I’m here.”

            Caitlin touched Lucas’s knee again and Lucas cried out.  She repositioned his knee and he screamed.

            Barry’s breathing escalated almost as rapidly as Lucas’s did.  “Stop,” he said, “you’re hurting him, stop.”

            “Barry,” Iris said at the same time as Caitlin.

            “Barry, I have to finish up,” Caitlin said, “I’m almost done.  I’m just setting him up to heal properly now.”

            “No, you’re done, that’s enough,” Barry said.

            “Barry,” Iris said, her voice hard, grabbing Barry’s arm and yanking him around, so he was forced to look her in the eyes, her face right up next to his.  “Stop – you will let Caitlin work so that your son will heal correctly.  You will not interfere and cause more problems for Lucas.”

            “Dad!” Lucas yelled, and Barry’s eyes tried to go back to him, but Iris pulled on his arm again, forcing him around.

            “Look at me,” Iris said, “we’re taking a walk, Barry.  Come on.”

            “No,” Barry said, “Iris –”

            “If you want to help your son you will come with me,” Iris said, and her voice was harsh, and she knew she was being cruel, but she needed to get Barry out of there – he was doing more harm than good.

            He stared at her – hyperventilating, trembling, the fight going out of his eyes, leaving just the pain and fear and guilt and Iris’s voice softened.

            “Come with me, Barry,” she said, and he glanced back at Lucas.

            “I’ll stay with him, Dad,” Michael said, and his words came out much more steady then he felt.  “I’ll stay with him.  I won’t let anything happen to him, Dad.  I promise.”

            Barry looked dazed.  He looked back down at Lucas, but Iris was already pulling him out of the room.

            “Dad?” Lucas said.  “Dad?”  His voice cracked.

            “Dad will be right back,” Michael said, taking Lucas’s hand again.  “He’ll be right back, but I’m right here, Luke.  I won’t go anywhere.”

            “Mike – Michael, it – it hurts, it hurts so bad,” Lucas said, and let out another moan.

 

 

 

            About twenty minutes later Iris and Barry still weren’t back.  Caitlin had completely finished though, but Lucas didn’t have the same tendency that Barry did of falling asleep after procedures, and he still wasn’t doing well.  He was still in pain, but he was also terrified and really still only semi-aware.  He didn’t seem to understand that it was over, no matter how many times Michael and Caitlin and Cisco told him it was.  He kept begging them to stop, asking for Len and Barry, telling Michael in a whispered voice that it hurt so much and he needed to make them stop.  It all had Michael’s nerves frayed, his head pounding as he tried again and again to get Lucas to calm down.  It was then that Len finally arrived, running into the room before walking to Lucas’s side, sitting in the same chair that Barry had been.

            “Lukey,” Len said.  He carefully ran his fingers through Lucas’s hair, letting his hand rest there.  His voice was soft, very quiet, and very calm.  “Lukey, it’s Da.”

            Lucas turned, eyes opening.  For a second Len stared at Lucas’s uncomprehending eyes, glazed over, staring right at him but not seeing him.  And then recognition came back, his eyes lit up again, and suddenly he was shifting on the bed, propping himself up.

            “Da?” he said.  “Da – _Da._ ”

            “I’m here,” Len said.  He wrapped his arms around Lucas when he leaned up, when he went to clutch at him.  Lucas leaned against him, head against his shoulder and neck, and then he started crying again.  “Shh, I’m here Lukey.  It’s OK.  I’m here.”

            “I wanna go home,” Lucas said against him, the same words he’d been saying since the procedure ended.  “Please take me home, please Da, i-it hurts, I want – I wanna go home, I wannit to be o-over, please, please make it stop.”  It came out fast, rushed, and then Lucas started to sob.  “I wannago ‘ome, Da.  Please, I wannago home.”

            His voice cracked and shook and Len wanted nothing more than to grab him up and carry him out to the car, like he was five years old again and a trip to the toy store would make him forget all about it. 

            Caitlin came up behind him, and put a gentle hand on Len’s other shoulder.  “I need to monitor him for at least another hour,” she said softly, “but he can go home tonight.”

            Len nodded at her.  He shifted his arms to let Lucas settle against him.

            “Da, I wanna go home,” Lucas said again.  He was clutching at Len’s jacket like he might disappear any second, crying harshly against him.

            “Shh, I know,” Len said.  He started rubbing circles on Lucas’s back.  “We’ve gotta stay here a bit longer, Lukey.”

            “No _– no_ , Da, please,” Lucas said, and the fear and pain there made Len want to throw up.  He didn’t know which was worse – listening to his son scream and cry over the phone and being unable to do anything, or being here, and seeing him, feeling him cry, and having to deny him what he wanted so badly.

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Len said, “I’m not going anywhere.  It’s OK.  Caitlin’s all done, Lukey.  Your knee is OK now.  You just need to rest, and let it heal.  It’s OK.”

            “No, I wanna go home, I wannit to stop, please –”

            “Shh, it’s Ok, it’s OK,” Len said.  “It’s stopped.  It’s all over, it’s stopped.  It’s OK, I’m here.”

            “No, Da, don’t, I wanna go home, please, I wanna go home, I’ll do anything, please, I just wanna go ho-ome.”

            “We’re gonna go home soon, Lukey, we’re gonna go home soon.  Just rest.  It’s OK now.  Just rest.  I’ve got you.”

            “No, Da, please –”

            “Shh, it’s OK.  It’s OK now.”

            It went on.  Lucas kept begging to go home, begging for them to stop, and Len kept repeating the same reassurances that he was there, that it was over, that they’d go home soon.  Lucas eventually quieted down, and Len got him to lay back down against the hospital bed.  He held his hand, kept his other hand in his hair, or against his face, his shoulder.  Lucas never really stopped crying, but it slowed eventually.  Len kept trying to get him to sleep, but he wouldn’t stay still long enough, wouldn’t stop talking, stop begging, long enough to fall asleep.  He was still in pain, and he was terrified.

            Barry and Iris finally came out about half an hour after Len got there.  Iris had a hand on Barry’s back, and Barry was pale and his eyes were red-rimmed.  Len met his eyes as he came out.  Barry’s expression flashed a half dozen emotions all at once, and Len could tell Barry was relieved to see him there, but he knew him well enough to know that Barry was feeling extremely guilty as well.  Len didn’t know what had happened when Barry had shown up, but he could only imagine the reaction he would have had.  Len wouldn’t have been surprised if he had passed out.

            “Lukey,” Barry said, almost tentative, voice soft, coming up behind Len.  Iris grabbed him a chair and he sat down.  Len took Barry’s hand, made eye contact with him again, tried to make his expression reassuring, and then he took Barry’s hand and placed it in Lucas’s in place of his own.  Lucas’s eyes trained on him.

            “Dad?”  It was the same tone as when Len had arrived and Len felt his stomach drop.

            “I’m right here, Lukey,” Barry said.

            Lucas started to sit up again.  “Dad – Dad, I – please – please take me home?”  He looked between Len and Barry again and then trained in on Barry.  “Dad,” he said.  His voice was so rough, so shaky, “Dad I wanna go home, please take me home, please let me go home now, it hurts – i-it hurts, I wanna go home – please, Dad, please –”

            “Shh,” Len said.  He smoothed his hand through Lucas’s hair again. “A little longer, Lukey.  It’s all over.  It’s all done, but we can’t move you yet.  It’s OK.  It’s all done.”

            “But I wanna g-go home,” he said, and tears welled up in his eyes again, eyes that were bloodshot, red rimmed and puffy – his hands were still shaking.  “Dad, please, Dad, I wanna go home.”  He focused in on Barry, grip tightening on his hand, leaning forward on the bed.  “Please.  Please, Dad.  I just wanna go home.  I just wanna go home, I have to go home, _please_ , Da.”

            Barry’s whole body went tense and Len looked over to see tears brimming in Barry’s eyes too, and he opened his mouth and then closed it again, and his eyes flicked to Len, an impossible desperation there.

            “It’s OK, Lukey,” Len said.  He placed a hand against Barry’s back even as he touched the side of Lucas’s face.  “We’re gonna go home soon.  It’s all done now.  We’re gonna go home soon.”

            “No, now, please, I just wanna go home now,” he said.  He closed his eyes and tears ran down his face, throwing his head back, squirming on the bed. “ _Please, please_.”

            “Shh, it’s OK.  Shh,” Len said.

            They sat there for another half hour.  Iris stayed behind Barry, stayed just in case Barry started spiraling again, started panicking.  Len needed to stay with Lucas, so if something happened with Barry someone else needed to help him, so Iris stayed there.  Michael sat on the other side until Caitlin came by and gently led him off into a separate room.  She coaxed some food and drink into him, and told him he had done everything right and done a great job at helping Lucas, at trying to keep him calm and give him some comfort.  Cisco came in and then Caitlin left the two of them to go back and check on Lucas.  Cisco stayed with Michael.

            When Caitlin came back in, she touched Len’s shoulder.  He looked up at her, and all it took was one look and his stomach was sinking again.  He gave a small nod.

            “Lucas,” Caitlin said.

            Lucas turned to her, and his eyes were wide.  He tensed.

            “I need to check a couple of things and then you can go home,” she said.  “Can you tell me if you’re still in any pain?  Does your knee still hurt at all?”

            He nodded.

            “Can you give me a one to ten on that?”

            “Six,” he said.

            Caitlin nodded.  She tried to keep her expression neutral.  It should be healed up enough that it wouldn’t hurt that much any longer, but Lucas was distressed enough that his pain rating might just be skewed.

            “OK,” she said, “We’re gonna need one more MRI from you, OK?  I’m going to wheel you over there now.”

            Lucas’s face contorted.  He looked around, from face to face, and started shaking his head.  “I – no, no, please, no more – I – I –”

            “Shh,” Len said, “it just an MRI, Lucas.  It won’t hurt.  You’re OK.  It’s not going to hurt.”

            “I don’t want to, please, I don’t want to,” Lucas said, even as Len and Barry stood up, moved their chairs out of the way.

            “It’s OK,” Len said again, “it won’t hurt.  It’s OK.  We just have to do this so we can go home, OK?  We’re gonna go home really soon now, but Caitlin needs this before we do.”

            Lucas kept arguing, all the way down to the MRI room, but he didn’t start fighting or panicking more than he had been before.

            When they got there he held tightly to Barry’s hand, still shaking his head.  He didn’t look scared so much as upset though.  Lucas hated MRI’s, but mostly because they were long, and he was always a little bit nervous around them.  He wasn’t really claustrophobic, and Len was starting to think that he was protesting more because he didn’t want to be separated from them, didn’t want to have to do anything else medical, more than because he was really afraid.

            “I’m going to take the brace off your leg, Lucas,” Caitlin said.

            Lucas’s brow furrowed, and he tensed suddenly.  “Wait,” he said, “wait, I – d-don’t touch it.  Please, don’t touch.  It hurts – please, it – please, it hurts, don’t touch.”  He started hyperventilating, pulling back his other leg, looking desperately at Len and Barry.

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Len said, “Lucas – Lukey, look at me.  It’s OK.  Caitlin has to take it off for you to go home, OK?  It’s gotta come off to go home.  Just look at me.”

            Lucas turned towards Len but then squeezed his eyes shut, letting out a sob.  Caitlin started undoing the straps on the brace, trying to go as quickly as possible while also being as gentle as possible.

            Lucas whimpered, body tense, curled away from Caitlin.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “just getting the brace off.  Nothing else.  It’s OK.  Take deep breaths.  Deep breaths, Lukey.”

            “I’m just gonna pull it off now,” Caitlin said. 

            Lucas whimpered, flinching when Caitlin carefully slid it off.

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Len said.

            “All done,” Caitlin said.

            “All done, Lukey,” Len repeated.  “All done now.”  He waited a moment, stroking Lucas’s hair, and then spoke again, “Lukey, how about we get that MRI done now so we can go home?  Does that sound OK?  We’re gonna go home soon, we just need to get this done first, OK?”

            Lucas didn’t nod.  His mouth crumpled, and he was looking at Len like the absolute last thing he wanted to do right then was get an MRI, but he wasn’t shaking his head either.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “it’ll be done quick.  Just a couple pictures of your knee, OK?  We’re gonna get them done fast for you.  Just try to relax OK?  It won’t hurt, and you don’t have to do anything, OK?”

            They got him into it, which was a challenge in itself, and then Lucas didn’t want to have it taken, so Len had to stand there with him and talk him down until Lucas agreed to hold still for the MRI.  And then he spent the entire time talking to him through the mike they had, the same litany of reassurances and calming phrases he’d been repeating all night.  Barry was silent next to him the whole time, holding Lucas’s hand until he had to leave, then sitting next to Len at the mike, but not saying anything.  He looked like he was on the verge of crying the entire time.

            When Caitlin finally finished she reviewed the MRI’s quickly.  She was a little worried since Lucas had said he was still in a considerable amount of pain.  There could be a dozen problems.

            He was healing slower than usual.  His body was under extreme stress and was processing the surgery as a traumatic event, he had gone into shock while they were working and he was still extremely distressed, so it was not really a surprise.  Lucas usually healed slower than Barry simply because he didn’t fall asleep after getting injured like Barry usually did.  His body ramped up while Barry’s shut down, like his body thought the fight was still going, where Barry’s demanded that all resources be set on healing.  Barry’s body was very much better at healing than Lucas’s was, but Lucas was much less prone to passing out than Barry was, whether from hypoglycemia or pain or blood loss or anything else.  That could be an advantage in a fight.  It was a definite disadvantage when Caitlin had to fix anything.

            There were not any other major problems.  It wasn’t, however, healing perfectly.  That in itself wasn’t really anything to worry about though.  Barry and Lucas’s bodies tended to repair themselves not only quicker, but better, probably because they healed so quickly.  Barry had healed from his back being broken, and while bones needed to be set they rarely required surgery, even with bad breaks.  Caitlin had been hoping that with the surgery Lucas’s ACL would heal and he’d be up and running in a few hours.  It didn’t appear that that would be the case.  It was not, however, anything terrible.  He was probably going to need a few days of physical therapy to get back up to speed, but his knee would still heal fine in the end.

            Caitlin went and asked Iris to grab a couple nutrient-rich IV bags before she even finished looking at the images.  Then she hooked one up as soon as she went back out.  She needed him hydrated and fed, and both Barry and Lucas were hard to get food into when they were hurt.  But the better hydrated and the more calories they had, the better they healed.  She really needed Lucas to sleep as well, but that would probably not happen for at least another couple hours.  Eventually his body would give in to the exhaustion, but it wouldn’t happen until he was at least a little calmer and more relaxed, and that wouldn’t happen at Star.

            “Everything looks good,” Caitlin said.  “Lucas, I’m going to run these nutrient bags through, to give you some fuel to heal, and then you’ll be all set to go home.”

            “I can go home?” he said.

            “As soon as this runs through,” Caitlin said.  She paused.  “And after I get another brace over your knee.”

            His expression deflated.  “Another brace?”

            “A different one,” she said, “just for tonight.  You can take it off tomorrow morning.”

            “I – Aunt Caitlin, no, please not – please, I just wanna go home.”

            She moved quickly, thought it would be best to just try to get it over with quickly.  The brace was easy to slip on, less bulky then the other, which was meant to completely immobilize his knee.

            He protested, but it was quick, and she didn’t have to touch his knee or jostle it much at all, so any pain was quick and dull.  She finished running the IV bags through, and then he was all set to go.

            Cisco appeared with Michael as Barry wheeled Lucas out on a wheelchair, Len still had a hand on his shoulder, walking next to him, and then he broke off, and went up to Caitlin.

            “Everything really look good?” he asked.  He dreaded the answer.

            “Everything is good,” Caitlin said, then paused.  “It’s not healing perfectly, but that doesn’t mean there’s any problems.  Just that it’ll take a few days this time – he’ll need to do some physical therapy.  It’ll still heal fine.  It won’t need any more work.”

            Len let out a sigh.  “OK,” he said, “good, that’s… he won’t like it, and I’d rather he get some time to calm down… would you need to start that tomorrow?  Could that wait a day?”

            “It can wait,” she said, “But not much more than just a day.”

            “OK,” Len said, “that’s… that’s fine, as long as… as long as there’s no more surgery.”

            “No more surgery,” she said.

            “OK,” Len said, “thank you – I – just, thank you.”

            Caitlin shook her head.  “Your welcome,” she said, “but you don’t have to thank me, Len.  You know that.  Just, let me know if you need anything else, OK?  Are you going to be all set tonight?  Tomorrow?”

            Len closed his eyes.  He hadn’t even thought about the other kids, about what he was going to do.

            “Could you take Cyrus to piano?” he said.  “And – shit, Leah has field hockey.  She might be able to get a ride from a friend.  I’ll –”

            “Why don’t you go home,” Caitlin said, “and I’ll come by in the morning, to help get Cyrus and Wentworth on the bus, OK?  And I’ll talk to Cisco.  I’m sure together we can manage the rides.  We can always call Joe or Lisa or Iris.”

            “I’m sure they’ll all want to see Lucas,” Len said, “and I – I might ask Iris to come back, I don’t know, with Barry just –”  He ran a hand over his face, felt like his head was going to explode.  “God, Caitlin, what am I doing?” he said.

            Caitlin took his hand and gave it a squeeze.  “You’re being a really great Dad, and a really great husband.  They’re both going to be OK, Len.  And we’re all here to help you.”

            Len just nodded.  Iris came over, and Len turned to her, but she was already opening her mouth.

            “Do you want me to come back with you?  Take care of the other kids while you settle in with Lucas?”

            Len let out a breath.  “Yes,” he said, “that would be great, thank you.”

            Caitlin gave him a smile.  “I’ll be over tomorrow morning,” she said.  “Don’t worry about the rest of them.  I’ll make sure everyone gets to where they’re supposed to be.”

            “Thank you,” he said.

            “You’re welcome,” Caitlin said, “but you don’t have to thank me.”  She smiled again.


	2. Night Time

            Len went to Michael, hugged him, and then leaned back, so he could look at him.  “Can you drive?”

            Michael blinked, then nodded.  “Yeah,” he said, swallowed.  “Yeah, I can drive.”

            “I’m going to sit in the back with Lucas,” Len said, “And I don’t want Dad driving right now.  Are you OK to drive?  If you’re not that’s OK – Iris can, and we’ll get her car tomorrow.”

            Michael shook his head. “I can drive,” he said, and then took the keys from Len.

            They left Michael’s car at Star Labs.  Len would send Barry to get it later when he wasn’t silent and numb and hardly reacting to anything Len said or did.  Michael drove and Lucas and Len sat in the back.  Barry sat in the passenger side, wanted to sit in the back too but Lucas needed the room, with his leg.

            When they got back Len carefully helped Lucas out, handing him crutches.

            “Do you want to go up to your bed, or stay in mine and Dad’s bed for tonight?” Len asked.

            Lucas hesitated.

            “Whatever you want,” Len said, “you can sleep with me and Dad tonight if you want, or we can sit with you in your room until you fall asleep.”

            “Um… mine,” Lucas said.

            “OK,” Len said. 

            Iris followed them in her car.  When they got there she went in first, and got Cyrus and Wentworth to go downstairs.  Leah was waiting though when Len helped Lucas into the house.

            “I heard you hurt yourself at soccer,” she said when he came in.  She moved towards him quickly, hands out just a little, looking like she wanted to hug him, but couldn’t with the crutches he had.  She smiled.  “Worst injury you’ve gotten and it was from soccer.  Metahumans apparently have nothing on a black and white ball.”

            It almost got him to smile, almost.  She finally reached out to touch his arm. 

            “How do you feel?”

            He paused, eyes going down, then meeting hers again, flicking away to go back again.  “I really wanna go to bed,” he said.  His voice was still rough from crying and screaming.

            “OK,” she said.  It was enough of an answer.  “I’ll get you some water, OK?  Me and Cyrus made some cookies too.  I’ll bring some up in case you want to try eating something.”

            “Thanks,” he said.

            She gave his arm a squeeze, then went for the kitchen.

            Len and Barry helped him up the stairs.  Then Len grabbed the chair from Leah’s side of the room, along with Lucas’s desk chair and put them both next to the bed, so he and Barry could sit there.  He helped Lucas get into bed, and Leah came up with a plate of cookies and a glass of water for Lucas.  Lucas took the water and drank a couple sips.  He didn’t touch the cookies.  Len hadn’t really expected him to.

            Lucas had seemed a little better since getting home – since leaving Star Labs, really.  He looked like he was coming down from it all, finally relaxing a little bit.

            “Can you turn the light off?” Lucas asked.

            Barry got up and turned it off.

            Len ran his hand through Lucas’s hair.  “Just try to sleep now,” he said.  Lucas’s eyes were still open, looking at him in the dark, still enough light coming from the hallway to see him well enough.  “You’ll feel better when you wake up,” Len said, “you shouldn’t have any pain then, aside from a little soreness, and you’ll be rested and calm.  You can stay home tomorrow, and just relax, OK?”

            Lucas nodded.

            They sat there for a while.  Lucas closed his eyes, tried to sleep.  He kept moving around though, fidgeting every once in a while, letting Len and Barry know that he wasn’t actually asleep.  He opened his eyes after a while of just lying there.

            “I can’t sleep,” he said.

            “You just need to close your eyes and focus on taking deep, long breaths,” Len said, “you’re still all keyed up, but your body is exhausted.  Just take nice, deep breaths.  It’s OK.  Everything’s OK now.  You’re safe.”

            He fell asleep eventually.  They sat there for almost an hour and a half but he eventually fell asleep.  Len walked Barry back to their room, told him to change, get into bed, he’d be there shortly.  He went back downstairs and food Iris, Wentworth, Cyrus, Michael and Leah.

            “Where’s Lucas?  Is he OK?” Cyrus asked, jumping up immediately.

            “Auntie Iris said he had surgery,” Wentworth said.

            “Lucas is in bed, and he’s sleeping so you need to be very quiet,” Len said, “he’s OK, but yes, he did have surgery, so he’s not feeling very good right now.  I’m going to need you all to be extra nice to him right now, OK?  And me and Dad are going to be staying home with him tomorrow, so Auntie Caitlin is going to come tomorrow morning to help get you on the bus and then get you from school, and I need you to be on your best behavior and help her, so me and Dad can stay with Lucas, OK?”

            “OK,” Cyrus said, quickly followed by Wentworth.

            “Now,” Len said, “isn’t it about your bedtimes?”

            He put Cyrus and Wentworth to bed, then came back downstairs.  Leah walked up when he came down the stairs.

            “I’m gonna go to bed,” she said.

            “OK,” Len said, “try to be as quiet as you can, OK?  He’s having a hard time sleeping.  Thank you for watching Cyrus and Wen while we were gone.”

            “No problem,” she said.  She paused, and bit her lip.  “Is he OK, Da?”

            Len let out a long breath.  “He was in a lot of pain,” he said, “I don’t know what Michael told you, but he tore his ACL, and that needed surgery.  Dad’s phone was dead, and I wasn’t back from Starling yet.  I only got there when it was already over, but I was on the phone.  He was… he was just in a lot of pain for what I’m sure felt like a very long time.  He’s going to be just fine, but he’s still really shaky right now, Leah.  I don’t know if he’ll bounce back quickly from this.  This one might take some time.  He’ll be OK, but he… he went through something very traumatic.”

            Leah bit her lip again.  “OK,” she said.

            Len hugged her, and she hugged him back, and then after a long moment he let go.  “If he wakes up in the night, come wake up me and Dad, OK?”

            She nodded.  “OK.”

            Len kissed her forehead.  “OK, goodnight, Leah.”

            “Goodnight, Da.”

            He went to Michael next.  Iris walked out into the kitchen.  Len hugged him.

            “How are you feeling, Michael?” he said.

            Michael shrugged.  Len looked at him.  His eyes were almost glassed over, and he looked a little numb still.

            “Thank you,” Len said, “thank you for being there with him.  I know it helped him a lot to have you there.  I’m sorry we couldn’t have been there sooner.  You did a great job.  Thank you.”

            “He’s my brother,” Michael said quietly.  He looked away, then back at Len again.  “I don’t feel like I did a great job,” he said.

            “You did,” Len said, “and that’s… that’s normal Michael.  It’s hard to be there, and to not be able to really do anything.  You did help him, you really, really did Michael.  I know it can make you feel helpless, and it can feel like you’re not doing anything, but you are.”

            “OK,” Michael said. 

            “I think you should go to bed,” Len said.

            “I have homework,” he said.

            “Tell your teachers there was a family emergency.”

            “They won’t care.”

            “I’ll write you a note.”

            “They still won’t care.”

            Len frowned.  “I’ll make them care.”

            Michael smiled.  “You can’t go in there as Captain Cold,” Michael said, “Dad would kill you.”

            “Oh, I’ll make Dad go in instead – have him berate your teachers about being insensitive assholes.”

            “Dad would yell at you for swearing too.”

            Len gave him a look and Michael laughed.

            “Go to bed,” he said, “do the homework in the morning then.”

            “Fine,” Michael said.

            He went up to bed.  That left Iris, arms crossed, waiting for him.  He turned to her.

            “Rough night,” she said.

            Len ran his hands over his face and let out a long breath.  “Yeah, you could say that.”

            “It’ll be OK,” she said.

            “I know that,” Len said, “I do.  But, God, that – that was about as horrible as any one of the scenarios I’ve imagined could happen to Lucas.  This is why I hate business trips – oh God, and now – Barry’s up in our room.  God, Iris, he’s a mess.”

            She sighed.  “He took that hard,” she said.  “Do you want me to talk to him first?”

            “No,” Len said, shook his head.  “No it’s fine – it’s late, you can go home, I –”

            “Kicking me out now, Len?”

            Len let out a laugh, just one burst.  “Of course not, Miss West,” he said, “But it’s late, and I’m sure you want to get home.”

            “I can stay if you want me to, Len,” she said.

            “No, it’s fine, Iris.  Everyone’s asleep or going to sleep.”

            “You should get some sleep too.”

            “I’m gonna try.”

            “Call me if you need anything, OK?  Call me if you need me to stay with Barry, too.”

            “I will, thank you.”

            “Don’t worry about it, Len.”

 

 

 

 

            Barry was sitting on their bed, hands folded in his lap, crying silently, when he walked in.

“Hey,” he said, and Barry burst into tears.

            “I’m so sorry,” he said, even as Len brought him into a hug.  “I’m so sorry.  My – my phone died, I – I didn’t get his call, Len, I wasn’t there, I didn’t get his call.  Ed-Eddie had to come find me, it’s all my fucking fault, Len.  It’s – I –”

            “Shh,” Len said, “breathe, Barry.  None of this is your fault.  Lucas hurt himself playing soccer.  It was an unfortunate coincidence that your phone was also dead.  That’s not your fault, Barry.  Shh, it’s not your fault.”

            “I can’t believe I wasn’t there,” Barry said,  He let out a sob.  “I’ve torn my ACL, Len, I – God, I’m gonna throw up, you – you know what that was like for me, it –”

            Len did.  He had been there.  It had been terrible.  He was only thankful Lucas had been spared the long wait that Barry had.  When Barry tore his ACL he had barely felt it.  It had swollen up, but that went down quickly, and it wasn’t until a couple days later that Len finally convinced him to let Caitlin take an MRI of it.  And by then it had already healed, so there was no time constraint.  They had waited a day to get it done, and it was probably one of the worst decisions Len had made, because that day in between was awful – when Barry knew it was coming. He was glad that Lucas at least hadn’t had to experience that.

            “He’s OK,” Len said.  “He’ll be OK, Barry.”

            Barry cried, and Len held him until Barry was done, a good half hour later.

            “I got there and I panicked,” Barry said then, his voice quiet.  “I – I felt awful, he was doing awful and I couldn’t – I couldn’t do anything about it and he was scared and in pain and I panicked and made it worse.”  He let out a half sob.  “Iris made me leave.”

            “That was probably a good thing,” Len said gently, “Barry, honestly… I don’t know if it would have really been good for you to have been there during it.”

            Barry was quiet for a minute.  “He’s my son,” he said then.

            “Yes,” Len said, “and I know you want to be there for him, but if you’re panicking it’s not going to help him.”

            Barry wiped a sleeve across his eyes, but he nodded.  “I feel useless.”

            “Me too,” Len said. 

            “He shouldn’t have had to go through that,” Barry said, “Len, he – he must have been so scared, in so much pain, Len, I can’t believe –”  Barry choked off in a sob.

            Len took a long breath.  “He was,” he said, “but he’s OK now.  He’s going to be OK.”

            “What do we do?  What are we going to do?”

            Len paused.  “I was thinking,” he said, “of talking to him about seeing a therapist.”

            Barry froze, and then looked up slowly.  “Do you think he’d want to?”

            “I don’t know,” Len said, “I don’t think we should make him if he doesn’t want to, but I think it would be a good idea.”

            Barry was quiet for a minute.  “Yeah,” he said, “it probably would be.”

            “It would probably be a good idea anyway,” Len said, “even if this hadn’t happened – he still gets hurt, he still gets nervous about getting hurt.”

            Barry was silent for a minute.  “What if that get’s worse?”

            “Then we’ll help him, and he’ll get better,” Len said.

            “Len,” Barry said, and his voice was quiet, “I don’t want him to be like me.”

            Len sighed.  “Barry,” he said, and he shifted, holding Barry on the bed now, “there’s nothing wrong with how you ar-”

            “Len, I didn’t leave the house for a month after Wentworth, it took me two weeks to leave when I needed surgery on my leg –”

            “Barry, that was all a long time ago,” Len said.

            “When I tore my ACL I took a week off work and I had nightmares for months.”

            “That was almost five years ago, Barry,” Len said, “you’re doing so much better now then you were then.”

            “I’m still not good,” Barry said, “and it doesn’t really matter, Len, I – I don’t want Luke to go through that.”

            “I don’t either,” Len said, “and I really hope he doesn’t, but even if this causes problems for him, he’ll still be OK, Barry.  He healed, Scarlet.  He’s healing.  He’ll heal from this too.”

            They kept talking for a while, until eventually they fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

            Lucas woke up around 4:30 in the morning.

            He was having nightmares.  Not the bad nightmares, not the ones where he woke in a cold sweat, yelling, flailing, usually to find Leah shaking him, leaning over the bed.  He was grateful for that at least.  He was having stress nightmares – ones where it was just little things, just enough to keep him tense, anxious, and turning all night.  He hadn’t been sleeping well the whole night, and he finally woke up fully and then couldn’t fall back asleep.

            He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling.

            His knee hurt.  At first it was just a dull ache, but the more he focused on it, the more it seemed to be throbbing worse and worse.  He let out a huff of breath and tried changing positions, but trying to move his knee only made it hurt more.

            He let out a whine of pain and frustration, but then clamped his mouth closed.  Leah was asleep in the same room, a wall between them, which separated the room into two, leaving about the width of two doorways of open space which connected the two halves of the room.  He knew if he woke her up she’d come sit with him, or talk to him, or get him some ice for his knee, but she had school the next day, and Lucas didn’t want to make her miss sleep.

            He wanted ice for his knee though.  It hurt, seemed to keep getting worse.  Caitlin usually didn’t let him ice things, because it made him heal slower, but he figured at this point it didn’t really matter if it took an hour extra to heal.  He just wanted something to numb the pain, which had been a constant since he hurt it at soccer.  He didn’t want to get up though, and he spent a good five minutes debating before resigning himself to just staying there.  It would hurt to try to walk, and while he could probably make his way downstairs fine now, he didn’t want to make it hurt worse by walking on it without the crutches.

            He was pretty sure it wasn’t supposed to hurt this much anymore, and he realized he was probably just thinking about it too much – focusing on it.  He tried to take deep breaths, to relax his body again.  When that didn’t work he reached for his phone, on the nightstand next to his bed, and swiped through some apps.  It still hurt though, and he couldn’t seem to distract himself.

            He lay back down flat again, feeling miserable.  Tears were gathering in his eyes again.  He was just so sick of the pain, the constant, throbbing pain.  He just wanted it to be over.  And he wanted to sleep.  He was so tired, and he couldn’t sleep, couldn’t focus on anything but the pain, couldn’t relax enough to fall back asleep – he could feel his heart thudding too fast, could feel himself breathing too quickly as he got himself more and more worked up, more and more frustrated and upset, but he couldn’t seem to slow it down again.

            He wanted to go wake up Da.  Da would come sit with him and talk to him and rub his back again until he fell asleep.  Lucas shivered and curled onto his side, his leg twinging in pain from the movement.  He wanted Da.  He really wanted Dad too, but Dad was going spacy again, and that scared Lucas.  He knew Dad was just afraid, like him – that he’d been hurt a lot worse than Lucas had before, and now seeing Lucas like that scared him too, and Lucas knew that Dad tried to hide it from them, and he didn’t want to make Dad anymore scared or upset than he already was.  But he also wanted him there.  Dad was always good at helping him afterwards – and he selfishly hoped that Dad would be feeling better that day, because he wanted comfort.

            It made him feel childish and weak, but Lucas didn’t want to be alone.  He hated being alone afterwards – hated being alone when he was upset or scared or in pain.  And Da was always so calm, and that helped, and Dad had been through it all before, and even though Dad was never as calm as Da, and that could scare him, it helped when Dad was there because Lucas knew he had done it all before, that he had gone through it and lived, had been fine, had gotten over it, so Lucas would too.  When he was crying and screaming from pain or afterwards when he just felt so shaky and awful – it helped to know that Dad knew exactly what he was going through.  It was easy for him to start to withdraw, to start to cycle through what had happened in his head over and over again, easy for him to start feeling isolated – because no one else had to go through what he did.  It helped that Dad had, that whatever Lucas was going through, he understood.

            He wouldn’t wake up Dad now.  Dad had looked awful all night.  He couldn’t wake up Leah, because she had to be up in a couple hours for school.

            He could wake up Da though.  If he woke up Da they could go downstairs, and Da would get him ice cream and they could watch a movie, and Da wouldn’t say anything if Lucas sat too close to him, or wanted him to hold his hand.  He could get ice for his knee, and Da would help distract him.

            But no, he couldn’t really do that.  He felt his face heating up already, felt embarrassed for wanting his Da to hug him, to hold him like he was a little kid again.  He was already feeling embarrassed about how much he had cried during the procedure, and how much he had cried before and after.  He was fifteen years old, not a baby.  And he didn’t really feel bad about yelling and crying once the procedure really got going, because the pain had been blinding, but before it had even started he had been begging and sobbing.

            It made him feel weak.  He hated being scared of pain.  He felt like he shouldn’t be, like he should be over it by now, but when he started thinking about the procedure he felt his throat and chest tightening, his heartrate speeding up, and he just – he couldn’t.  He hated that he got scared at little things too now.  He forced himself to stay still, to tough through blood tests and shots and MRI’s and X-rays, but he hated them.  Actually getting bones set was awful.  He just couldn’t do anything but focus on it, and then he worked himself up, getting more and more nervous, anticipating the pain, until by the time Caitlin actually went to set it he was flinching away, asking if they could wait, so terrified that he’d do just about anything to get out of it, and if it was bad he’d start crying.

            He didn’t get out of bed.  He laid there, feeling stupid and weak and miserable, and his knee seemed to throb more, and he just wanted to sleep.  He watched the clock, until it was five in the morning, and he thought about waking Leah up again.  It was only like an hour now, until she’d usually get up.  She got up earlier than him, so she had time to do her hair and makeup, while Lucas usually jumped in the shower for five minutes, threw on clothes, and tried to grab up all his books and his soccer stuff for after school. 

            He knew Dad had torn his ACL before.  When Caitlin told him it was torn, when they were strapping his leg down and he was panicking, he had wanted so much for Dad to be there, in part because he was terrified, because this was surgery, was real surgery, and Dad had been through it before.  And he started wondering how many surgeries Dad had gone through after becoming the Flash.  He knew it wasn’t a small number – remembered the chunks of time where Dad wasn’t home for a night, or even a couple days, followed by days or weeks of Dad missing work, of staying away in the master bedroom, barely coming out.  It happened less often now – had happened more when he was younger, and a lot of the memories were blurred.  But as he got older, every time Barry was gone for a couple days, every time he came back with a brace or bandages, he had thought, _that could be me, that will be me_.

            It scared him.  He didn’t want to go through that.  And in the back of his mind he knew this was just the first.  There would be more surgeries.  He’d have to go through that again.  And that terrified him.

            He never wanted to go through that much pain again.  He started shaking, heart beating too fast again.  It had hurt so much, and then it had gone on forever, and even once he started losing consciousness, had started being only semi-aware – that had been almost worse.  He had been terrified and so confused and everything hurt.  It was all kind of a blur, but he could remember Cisco holding him down, Michael helping, remembered his arms being strapped down, and it had been a sickening, terrifying feeling.  Lucas was terrible with being restrained anyway, and he was pretty sure the fear was about to become ten times worse after that.

            He couldn’t do another surgery like that.  He just couldn’t.  And this wasn’t even because of being Kid Flash!  He was just at soccer – he couldn’t give up soccer.  And even if he did, there was no guarantee he’d never need surgery again.  Plenty of people had surgery for plenty of reasons beyond sports injuries and crime fighting.

            He was going to get hurt again, and he would have to have surgery again, and it was going to be a horrible, panic-inducing, agonizing experience, no matter what he did.

            He suddenly felt very alone, and very helpless.  He realized he was trembling, and he felt like crying, scared.  He glanced at the clock again.

            “L-Leah?” he said.  He kept his voice quiet.  Maybe she was awake already, maybe she happened to have woken up.  “Leah?”

            He didn’t get an answer.  He rolled back onto his back.  His knee protested and he whimpered.  It still hurt.  Why the fuck did it still hurt, it wasn’t supposed to hurt.

            Maybe something was wrong.  Maybe Caitlin was wrong, maybe there was still damage.  Maybe something happened with the bone while she was working – she hadn’t taken X-rays after, just an MRI – maybe something was wrong and that’s why it hurt.  Maybe he’d have to have more work done.

            “Leah?” he said, a little louder this time.  He started to sit up.  Maybe he should just get Da.  Maybe he should just get Da because Da talked to Aunt Caitlin and maybe she had told him something, maybe he knew if something was wrong – oh god, what if they had lied to him?  What if they had told him it was OK when it wasn’t because they didn’t want to scare him, what if that was why Dad was so upset, what if –”

            Lucas let out a sob.  He was shaking.  He was scared, dread curling in his stomach.

            “Luke?”

            Luke looked up to see Leah turn on his desk lamp.  He squinted and turned his eyes away, but it was a soft light that he quickly adjusted to, the room still mostly dark.

            “Hey,” Leah said.  She moved over to him quickly.  “What’s wrong?”

            “I – I –” Lucas swallowed.  His voice was shakier than he expected, and he was still trembling, blinking quickly to keep from crying, trying to take deep breaths.  “I think th-there’s something wrong.”

            “What wrong?  Wrong with your knee?”

            Lucas nodded fast.  “It hurts,” he said, “it – it still hurts, it’s not – it should be fine by now, but it’s not, it hurts and I think there’s something wrong, there’s –”

            “Luke,” Leah said, “I don’t think there’s anything else wrong with your knee.  I think it probably just still hurts some, because you heal slow sometimes.  Aunt Caitlin and Da would have told you if there was something else wrong.”

            “What if they didn’t though,” he said, panic bubbling up his throat, “what if it – what if i-it needs more work?”

            “Luke, your knee doesn’t need anymore work,” Leah said, her voice steady.

            “You don’t know that.”

            “I know that,” she said.

            “Did Da tell you that?”

            “No,” she said, “But Da would have told you if it needed more work.  He told you that you were just gonna stay home and relax today, remember?  Your knee is fine, Luke.”

            “He could have lied,” Lucas said, “that – that could be why Dad was so – was so upset – because they’re lying because they don’t want me to be scared, because it needs more work, and it’s gonna hurt, and she’s gonna cut me open again and –”

            “Stop,” Leah said.  She put her hands on his forearms, giving him a hard look.  “Luke, there’s nothing else wrong with your knee.  It doesn’t need any more work.  You’re talking in circles, running what-if’s.  You need to stop, before you talk yourself into a panic attack.”

            “But it could need more,” Lucas said, still not convinced, still half convinced he was right, and they were lying to him so he wouldn’t freak out, or maybe so he wouldn’t run – maybe it was something running worthy, something so bad they thought he might just hide from them and refuse to go in at all, maybe –

            “Luke,” Leah said sharply.  Lucas looked at her again, only then realizing he had started staring at nothing, not listening.  “OK,” she said, “I’m gonna go get Da, OK?  And you can ask him.”

            “But if they’re lying because –”

            “He’s not lying to you,” Leah said, “but you can ask him to make sure.  He wouldn’t lie to you if you asked him directly like that,” Leah said, “you know he wouldn’t.  Not that I think he’d lie by not telling you either.  I’ll be right back.”

            _But I don’t want you to leave_ , Lucas thought, even as she pushed their door open and flicked the hall light on.  He sniffed again, wiped at his eyes where the tears were, still unshed.  He shifted, and his knee throbbed.  It hurt.  It hurt so much.  There had to be something wrong.

            Lucas waited a minute, and then Len was there, walking in behind Leah, looking worried.  Lucas’s chest tightened, and suddenly he felt like he couldn’t breathe.  Da was going to tell him now, was going to tell him about the next surgery, or maybe the damage was so bad he needed multiple surgeries, maybe Caitlin had found something while she was doing the surgery, something worse, something that needed more treatment, a tumor, or a growth or some bone problem or something.

            “Luke,” Len said, pulling over the same seat he had taken before, when he had sat and waited for Lucas to fall asleep.  He sat down and then reached out, put his hands on both of Lucas’s forearms, just like Leah had.  “Luke, Leah said you thought there was something still wrong with your knee?”

            He nodded, and trembled.  “It – it still hurts,” he said.  “It – it still hurts really bad.”

            Len nodded, frowning.  He rubbed Lucas’s arms almost unconsciously, just moving his hands back and forth in a comforting gesture.

            “OK,” he said, “Caitlin said you were healing a little slowly for you – it might just take a little longer this time – and it’ll probably still be sore for the rest of the day.  Do you want some ice for it?”

            Lucas nodded.  His eyes flicked up to Leah for a second.  “But – it’s – is something else wrong?”

            “I don’t think so, Luke,” Len said, “I think it’s just healing slowly, and you’re still really stressed and anxious, and that can make the pain worse.”

            “Are you sure,” Lucas said, “are you – are you sure there’s nothing else wrong?  There’s not – Aunt Caitlin didn’t say anything about – is there anything else wrong?  Does – does it need any more surgery?”

            Len’s brow furrowed.  “More – no, Luke, it – it’s all good now, it’s all done.  Your knee is fine.”

            “Are you sure,” Lucas said, “are you – are you lying so I don’t get scared?”  He said it all in a rush.  “Because it – it hurts and I’m scared anyway and –”

            “No, Lukey, I – we wouldn’t lie to you about that,” Len said, his eyes shooting wide, “Luke, no, of course not.  Your knee is fine, it doesn’t need any more surgery, I promise.”

            “You promise?” Lucas said, his voice small.

            “I promise.  I swear,” Len said.  He let out a sigh.  “Luke I would never lie to you about something like that.  Caitlin said you will need some physical therapy this time, but only a few days worth, and not today.  We’re going to wait until tomorrow.  You’re fine, Luke.  Your knee is fine.”

            “Oh,” Lucas said.  He took a few deep breaths, calming down.  “Sorry,” he said softly.  He looked down, letting out a long breath.  “I’m sorry I woke you guys up,” he said quietly again.

            “You don’t need to apologize,” Len said, “it’s fine.  I want you to come get me if you’re this scared, Lucas.  I want you to come get me if you’re upset.”

            “It just started hurting so much,” Lucas said, tears gathering in his eyes again.  “And I – I got scared you wouldn’t tell me.”

            “Lucas, I will always tell you what’s going on with your injuries,” Len said seriously, “and I will never lie to you if you ask me something, even if that answer is going to scare you.  If I were to lie to you, you’d just stop trusting me, and then I’d never be able to calm you down when something was actually OK.”

            “OK,” Lucas said, “I – I just… it hurt and I got scared.  Sorry.”

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “you don’t have to be sorry.  Now, why don’t I go get you some ice, OK?  Do you want to stay here and try to sleep some more, or move down to the living room and watch some TV.  Your brothers will be up soon though, so it’ll get loud down there after an hour or so.”

            “I dunno,” Lucas said.  He deflated.  He felt exhausted, just wanted to sleep, but he didn’t think he’d be able to, and his knee hurt.  Maybe watching TV would distract him.  But he didn’t want to fall asleep down there just to wake up when Cyrus and Wentworth came running down the hall.  But they’d take the middle school bus, so it still be a couple hours… He didn’t know.

            “How about I bring you some ice up here,” Len said, “and you can try to sleep, but if you decide you want to watch something we can bring it up on your laptop?  Or just move downstairs then.”

            “OK,” Lucas said.


	3. Sleep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A little bit shorter, but here you go :)

            Lucas couldn’t fall back asleep, didn’t really want to fall back asleep, so once the rest of the kids had left for school, Len went with him downstairs.

            By the time they did that, Lucas’s knee was feeling a little better.  It was sore, and it ached, and moving still hurt, but the throbbing, sharp pain had faded.  Not long after they went downstairs, Barry woke up, and made his way downstairs as well.  He gave them a weak smile when he went into the room.

            “How are you feeling?” he asked, sitting down next to Len.  Lucas was on the other end of the couch, leg stretched out and a blanket over him.

            “OK,” Lucas said.  He was feeling a little better.  He wasn’t feeling as anxious anymore, and he was really just trying not to think about it too much, to just relax and try not to focus on the lingering pain.

            He fell asleep a while later.  He didn’t get much sleep the night before, between waking up around 4:30 in the morning and sleeping fitfully before that, unable to fall asleep in the first place for a while.  While he was asleep Barry and Len went into the kitchen and talked for a while.

            When Lucas woke up his knee seemed worse, and it was starting to make him nervous again.

            “My knee hurts,” Lucas said when he found himself feeling hot, heart rate picking up.

            “Do you want some ice?” Len asked.

            Lucas nodded, took it anxiously from Len when he came back with another ice pack.

            “Could there be something wrong?” Lucas asked, “I thought it was supposed to be healed by now?”

            “Caitlin said you’d need some physical therapy,” Len said, sitting down close to him again.  “She said that it would definitely not need any more work though.”

            “No surgery?”

            “No surgery.”

            Lucas still looked nervous.

            “Sometimes it can hurt for a while afterwards,” Barry said.  “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything is wrong.  It can take a lot longer for the nerve paths to get back to normal, even after the injury is healed.  If Caitlin said you definitely won’t need any more surgery, then you won’t need any more surgery.  She never says that unless she’s sure.”

            “OK,” Lucas said.  “Is… will it be better tomorrow?  How… how bad is physical therapy?”

            Barry grimaced.  “It’s not fun,” he said, “but it’s not terrible either.  Every time I’ve had to do physical therapy the injury has still hurt some even after it should have healed though, so that’s normal.”

            “How… how bad is physical therapy though?  Like… on a one to ten?”

            Barry shrugged.  “It depends.  It can really not be that bad at all or it can be fairly painful.”

            “What about when you tore your ACL?”

            “I healed from that,” Barry said, “I didn’t need physical therapy for that one, although my knee was a little weak for a couple days after.”

            “What was the worst one – like, worst possible scenario, how bad would it be?”

            Barry grimaced again.  “The worst… the worst physical therapy was when I broke my back.  But that’s on a very different level then tearing your ACL – I was in pain all the time while it was healing, physical therapy just aggravated it more.  Nothing else was that bad.  Besides breaking my back, the worst was probably when I messed up my shoulder – physical therapy for that was fairly painful – probably around a five, but it fluctuated.  But, Luke, I dislocated that shoulder, broke my arm, tore ligaments, and had stitches in for a cut all the way across my shoulder and arm.  It was a really bad injury.  Your physical therapy shouldn’t be that bad.”

            “OK,” Lucas said, “so what’s… what’s normal then? Average?”

            Barry shrugged.  “A three,” he said.  “It can spike up higher, but it doesn’t stay there, and it’s not constant.  If you need a break, you can always take a break.”

            “Try not to worry too much about it, Luke,” Len put in, “just relax today.  It shouldn’t be too painful, and you can always have breaks.”

            “It already hurts though,” Lucas said, mumbling.

            “What number?”

            Lucas shifted.  “Three?  I guess… it’s worse when I move, or I walk.  It hurts more now then it did this morning.”

            “Try moving it a little,” Len said, “I know you said it hurts when you move, but it might hurt more now because it was still for so long.”

            Lucas tried bending his knee and moving it a bit.  He guessed it might help a little.  He wasn’t sure.  At that point he was pretty sure half of it was just in his head, just because he was focusing on it too much.

            He didn’t want to do physical therapy.  Even if it wasn’t that bad, he didn’t want to have to go through more pain.  He just wanted it to be over.

            They spent the rest of the day on the couch.  Lucas watched TV and movies.  Barry couldn’t sit still and moved between watching the TV, going on the laptop, reading, and flitting around the kitchen and living room.  Len just sat and watched TV with Lucas.  He made them lunch after a while, just sandwiches.  Lucas only ate a couple bites.

            “Luke, do you think you could eat a little bit more?” Len said.

            “I’m not hungry,” he said.

            “I know,” Len said, “but your body is trying to heal.  You need calories.”

            Lucas ate another couple of half-hearted bites.

            “Can you try to finish at least half?” Len said.

            “I’m full,” Lucas said.

            “I know, Luke,” Len said, a sigh in his voice, “but you need food.  You’ll heal slower if you don’t eat anything.”

            “I’m not hungry,” Luke mumbled.  He ate a couple more bites a few minutes later though.

            Michael got back from school first.  Between staying after for extra help with his honors and AP classes, math team, and science team, it was one of the few days where he got back right after school.  He joined Lucas on the couch for one episode, and then moved to the kitchen to work on homework.  Wentworth and Cyrus got back next, running in the door from the bus.

            “Da – Da we dissected a worm today!” Wentworth yelled.

            “A worm, huh?” Len said, amused and vaguely grossed out at the same time.

            “Yeah,” Wentworth said, “It was a big worm though, like longer than my hand, but there wasn’t really any blood, and they were already dead so we didn’t get to kill them.”

            “Why would you _want_ to _kill_ them,” Cyrus said.

            “I wanna see if it twitches,” Wentworth said.  “Adrian said they twitch when they die.”  Wentworth stuck up his arms and made a face and started demonstrating, jerking his arms in what Len assumed was supposed to be “twitching.”  Wentworth and Cyrus dumped their bags in the entryway on their way in.

            “Bags on the bench!” Barry said.  Both of them stopped and sighed and went back and picked them up.

            “But it’s a worm,” Wentworth continued, “so I don’t know if it can really twitch all that much.”

            “You should ask Aunt Caitlin,” Len said.

            Barry shot a glare at him.

            “What,” Len said, “she’s a doctor.  I’m sure she knows.”

            Cyrus went around the couch to stand directly in front of Lucas then, effectively blocking the TV. 

            “Cy!  I’m trying to watch that,” Lucas said, looking around him.

            “Is your leg better yet?” he said, and then went forward as if to poke at him.

            “Don’t touch me,” Lucas said, swatting his hand away, “yes, it’s better, now move.”

            “Does it still hurt?” Cyrus asked, stepping to the side and out of the way.

            “Yeah, a little,” Lucas mumbled.

            “But you heal fast.”

            “Sometimes it takes a little longer,” Barry said.

            “Oh,” Cyrus said.  He ran into the kitchen, and then came back with a plastic container which he held out in front of him, once again blocking the TV.  “Do you want some cookies?  Me and Leah made cookies yesterday.  They’re caramel chocolate chip.”

            “Yeah, I’ll try one – just, move over, Cy.”

            Cyrus took a big step to the right, then held out the cookies again.  Lucas took the container from him and opened it, taking a cookie.

            “It’s really good, Cy,” he said.

            “Do you want some milk?  Or some more?  I can get you some since your leg hurts.”

            “I’ll take another,” he said, grabbing a second cookie from the container.

            “Milk?”

            “No, that’s fine,” Lucas said.

            “Sure?”

            “Yeah.”

            Cyrus sat down next to him on the couch.  “What are you watching?”

            “Something you shouldn’t be,” Barry said.

            “But it’s the living room,” Cyrus said, whining.  Usually if Michael, Leah, or Lucas wanted to watch something Cyrus or Wentworth weren’t allowed to they had to watch it on their laptops, or after they’d gone to bed, or when they weren’t home.  They weren’t allowed to kick them out of the living room for it.

            “Lucas isn’t feeling well, so we’re going to let him watch it right now,” Len said, “why don’t you head downstairs to watch something else.”

            “But I wanna sit with Luke,” he said.

            Barry frowned, and looked at Len.  “Fine,” Barry said, “but just today.”

            Cyrus grinned.

           

 

 

 

 

            Lucas went to bed early that night.  Len told him he could miss another day of school if he wanted to, and Lucas just nodded.  He didn’t want to go back, was still feeling shaky and exhausted. 

            He woke up around one in the morning this time, and he woke up screaming.

            He dreamt that he was tied down to a table, that he couldn’t move at all, paralyzed there, and there were doctors in white coats around him, faceless people cutting into him.  And when he tried to scream no sound came out.  Sharp pain seemed to run all over his body, and he watched blood run down his skin, and the doctors all had large knives, and they kept cutting him, but then he’d heal, much faster than he did in reality, and they’d cut him again.  And the most terrifying part wasn’t even the fact that they kept cutting him, it was that he could see them moving towards him with the knives, watched like in slow motion, and he couldn’t move at all, just watched as the blades moved closer and closer to his skin, then fire ripped through him.

            He woke himself up when he screamed in his sleep.  His heart was pounding and he was covered in sweat.  He fought with the blankets for a second and then he was sitting up, panting, hands trembling.  Leah flicked the light on, and he closed his eyes, ducking his head for a moment.

            “It’s OK,” Leah said, and suddenly she was sitting on his bed, hands on his arms.  “You’re at home.  It’s OK.  It was a nightmare.”

            He nodded, but his stomach turned and he felt sick suddenly.  He staggered upright, and barely made it to the bathroom before he was throwing up.  His whole body shook, and he felt fuzzy – numb, even as fear still ran through him.

            His vision blurred, and suddenly his ears were ringing.  The world slid sideways for a moment.

            “-Luke, Luke, stay with me.”

            He turned.  Suddenly Leah’s face was right in front of his, in focus again.  She looked worried, a lot more worried then she usually looked after he had a nightmare.

            “Luke, you OK?”

            He just stared back at her.

            Barry pushed the door open, then, in pajamas.  “Leah?” he said.  “Luke?”

            Leah looked over at him, and Barry quickly took in the worried look on her face and moved over to Luke, putting a hand on his shoulder.

            “Luke, is everything OK?”

            Lucas blinked at him.  He felt dizzy.  He started to shake harder.

            “OK, easy now, it’s OK,” Barry said, “let’s go sit down, OK?”

            Lucas let Barry lead him back to their bedroom, Leah trailing behind.  Barry sat him down in his bed, and suddenly Luke was freezing.  He started shivering, and Barry wrapped a blanket over his shoulders.

            “It’s OK,” Barry said, rubbing his arms.  “You’re OK.”

            “He had a nightmare,” Leah said softly, though her words were rushed, worried “and then he threw up, and got all spacey.”

            Barry nodded, taking that in.  “It was a dream, Luke.  It’s not real.  You’re at home, it’s OK.”

            Luke suddenly thought he was going to cry, and started blinking fast, taking deep, rasping breaths.  His hands were tingling, like pins and needles, and his face felt cold.

            “I – I don’t feel good,” Lucas got out.  His stomach was spinning again.  His vision started to go black around the edges.

            “I’m gonna have you lie down, Lukey,” Barry said, “that’ll help, OK?”

            Lucas nodded, and let Barry gently guide him down, so he was lying down.  The dizziness cleared a little.

            “You’re OK,” Barry said, “it’s OK now.”

            “I – I was on a t-table,” he said, and he started shaking worse, “I c-couldn’t move.”

            Barry’s face went pained.  “It’s OK.  It was just a dream.  It wasn’t real.”

            “But it – I could – I could feel it.  It h-hurt.”

            “Sometimes it can hurt – you’re remembering pain,” Barry said, “it wasn’t real, Luke.  It was just a dream.”

            Lucas suddenly gripped Barry’s wrist, his fingers tight around him.  “They were c-cutting me – I – I watched them cut me – it kept – I couldn’t m-move.”

            “It was just a dream,” Barry said, “it’s OK now.  It wasn’t real.”  He moved to hold Lucas’s hand instead, gently prying it off his wrist.  He stroked Luke’s hair instead.

            It took Lucas a while to calm down.  He didn’t say much else after that, and Barry just sat with him.

            “Don’t go,” Lucas said after a while.

            “I’m not going anywhere, Lukey,” Barry said.

            “I – I don’t wanna go back to sleep.”

            “You need rest, Luke,” Barry said.

            Lucas shook his head, started trembling a little bit again, and he wouldn’t look at Barry.

            “Do you want to come sleep in our room tonight?” Barry asked.

            Lucas felt a sharp pang.  Yes, yes he did, he really did, he didn’t want to be alone, he didn’t want to wake up again screaming, he didn’t want to sleep, he just wanted to sleep, he just wanted to sleep without worrying about being strapped down to a table and the paralyzing fear.  But he was fifteen and he felt weak and he didn’t want to go sleep in their room again, Leah was right there anyway, but he was scared and he wanted Dad to stay with him.

            He felt tears in his eyes, and he was afraid, and then suddenly he was nodding jerkily, and then tears were slipping down his face.

            “Shh, it’s OK,” Barry said, and he wiped away the tears gently, and leaned forward and hugged Lucas.  “It’s OK.  Come on.”

            He got up, and grabbed his pillow, and followed Barry back to the master bedroom.  Len was still asleep.  Barry was always the lighter sleeper, and Len hadn’t woken up when Barry had heard Leah and Lucas moving around.

            Barry shook Len’s shoulder though, and it only took a few moments for him to blink awake.

            “Luke had a nightmare,” Barry said, “he’s gonna stay with us for the night.”      

            Len nodded, then started to sit up.  “Do you want me to –”

            “I got it,” Barry said.  A flash of yellow lightening and he had the air mattress on the ground inflating, with extra blankets on it.  He patted the bed, where he normally slept, and Lucas moved around and got into bed.

            “Do you wanna talk about it?” Len asked, and Lucas shook his head.  He settled into bed, and felt Len sit up a little more, then Len started petting through his hair, and Lucas relaxed a little more.

            “I’m gonna sit here until you fall asleep, OK?” Barry said.  He sat on the edge of the bed.  There wasn’t really room for all three of them to sleep in the bed, but Barry could sit there until Lucas fell asleep, then he’d move down to the air mattress.

            Lucas nodded.  He settled onto his stomach, and Barry started to rub soft circles over his back.  He kept his eyes opened though.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, his voice gentle.  “If you have another nightmare we’ll wake you up.  We’ll be right here.”

            Lucas nodded, and finally closed his eyes.


	4. Food

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: discussion of eating disorder-like behavior (it is not actually an eating disorder though)

            He woke up again a few hours later.  This time he woke up crying, Len’s hand on his back, already sitting up.  Len hadn’t woken him up.  He didn’t usually try to wake Lucas up from his nightmares, or Barry from his either, because if they could sleep through it then they wouldn’t remember it in the morning, but he had woken to Lucas kicking him, and had sat up and waited to see if it would pass or if he would wake up. He woke up.

            He was crying and sputtering and hyperventilating, but Len got him to calm down a little bit faster this time.  Barry woke up too, went back to sitting on the edge of the bed for a while.

            He dreamt he was strapped down to a table again, and again he couldn’t move at all.  But this time there were no knives, there was just a faceless person, and he was telling him all the things that they were going to do to him – all of the surgeries and ways they would cut into him and places they would cut into him.  And again when he tried to scream no sound came out, and he couldn’t move at all.

            He slept fitfully after that until morning.  He didn’t want to get out of bed.  He kept his eyes closed and pretended to be sleeping for a long time after he actually woke up.

            When he finally got up and made his way downstairs Len was making pancakes.

            “Chocolate chip?” he asked.

            “I’m not really hungry,” Lucas mumbled.  He went into the living room and sat down there instead.  He flipped through a couple of channels, but wasn’t really interested in anything.  He took out his phone and thumbed through a couple of apps without really looking at anything.

            “You should try to eat something,” Len said.

            “When do I have to go do physical therapy?” Lucas asked.

            Len frowned.  “Aunt Caitlin’s going to come over in a couple hours.”  When Lucas didn’t say anything Len walked into the living room.  “Lucas, is everything OK?”

            Lucas ran a hand over his face.  “I just don’t feel great,” he mumbled.  “I’m tired.”

            “You should eat something,” Len said, “I know that’s not what you want to hear, but you’ll feel better.”

            So when Len brought over a plate of pancakes with syrup already poured over them Lucas cut them up and then moved pieces around on his plate, watching the pancakes soak up syrup.  He stabbed at a few pieces, but barely ate anything.

            “I’m not hungry,” he mumbled again when Len came back and frowned at him.

            “You’re going to lose weight,” Len said.

            Lucas put the plate on the side table and drew his knees up to his chest, grabbing the throw blanket and pulling it over himself.  He leaned his head against the back of the couch, curled into the corner.

            “Luke,” Len said.  He moved around, so he was facing Lucas again.  “You really need to eat something.  Do you want something else?  A calorie shake?”

            Lucas shook his head. 

            “Luke, I need you to eat something,” Len said.  “You didn’t have hardly anything yesterday.  You can’t do that two days in a row.”

            Lucas’s weight was a constant battle.  Both he and Barry could lose and gain weight very, very quickly with the amount of calories they needed to consume.  When Lucas was young, he had been a very picky eater, and while he wasn’t quite as picky anymore with food, his ability to maintain a stable weight had gotten much worse as he got older.  As he started running more, and as he started growing more quickly, he needed to eat a lot, even more than Barry did, and while Barry was constantly hungry, Lucas wasn’t.  Caitlin had said she thought it was a side effect of being born a speedster rather than becoming a speedster. 

            Either way, Lucas hated calorie bars and wouldn’t eat endless amounts of food like Barry would.  He still ate a lot, when he was hungry, enough for several normal people combined, but Barry could eat up to a hundred burgers in one sitting.  Lucas would eat five and be full.

            As a result, his weight was constantly fluctuating, and they put calorie powder in everything he ate.  Going even a day without much food could set him back five pounds.  Ten, if he really didn’t eat anything.  If he was running a lot, it could be even more.

            Lucas was already starting to feel lightheaded, and he knew it was making him even more tired than he already was.

            “I don’t want anything,” Lucas said.

            “I’ll make you a shake,” Len said, “Or do you want some ice cream?”

            “I don’t want anything.”

            “You need to eat something,” Len said, “would you rather have a protein shake or a bowl of ice cream?”

            Lucas didn’t say anything.  He looked away from Len and stared at his knees in front of him, curled up just a tiny bit tighter.  He felt angry, irritated at his Da for trying to force him to eat, but more than that.  He wanted to scream.

            Len walked back into the kitchen.  Lucas heard him moving around, and a bit later the blender going.  He came back in with a tall glass.

            “Ice cream shake,” Len said.

            “I don’t want any,” Lucas mumbled.

            “Luke.”

            “I’m not hungry.  I’m gonna throw up if I eat that.”

            “Just try a little bit.”

            “I don’t want it, Da.”

            “I know you don’t want it, but you need to get some calories in you.”

            “It’s gonna make me feel sick.”

            “Just try a couple sips, Luke.”

            “No.”

            Len took in a long breath.  “Luke, do you want to pass out today?”

            Lucas didn’t answer.  He kept staring at his knees, the blanket over him.

            “You ate next to nothing yesterday.  You didn’t have anything to eat the night before that either.  I know you’re not feeling well, but you have to get some calories into you.”

            “I won’t run today.”

            “You haven’t eaten enough in the past couple days for a normal person, Luke, you can’t get by like this with your metabolism, even if you’re not running.”

            “Well I don’t want any,” Lucas said, his voice rising.

            Len sat down on the couch, next to him, at his feet where his knees were drawn in towards his chest.

            “Luke,” he said, his voice calm, “what’s wrong?”

            “Nothing,” Lucas said, and suddenly he felt tears at the corners of his eyes and he fought to keep his voice steady.  “I’m just not hungry.”

            “You know you need to eat,” Len said.

            “I don’t care,” he mumbled, even quieter this time.

            “If you pass out, we’ll have to give you an IV.  I know you don’t want to go back to Star right now.”

            Lucas felt a cold wave run through him, going a shade paler.  “No.”

            “Just try a few sips.  You just need to get something in you.”

            “I’m not eating anything right now.”

            Len ran a hand over his face.  “Luke, I mean it.  If you pass out, we’ll take you back to Star to get an IV for nutrients.  You can’t –”

            “Stop it,” he said, loud again, angry and scared.  He felt like he was being backed into a corner.  “I won’t go,” he blurted out, “I won’t go.”

            “Lucas, if you starve yourself to the point of passing out you will need –”

            Suddenly Lucas was standing in the middle of the living room instead, and his face was going red.  “No,” he said, and his hands were trembling.  He felt a wash of dizziness.  “I won’t go,” he said, “you can’t make me.”  He was breathing too fast again, could feel his body threatening to vibrate and his legs felt weak.  “You can’t make me,” he said again.

            “Lucas,” Len said, and he stood up, but kept his hands out, and his voice had gone very soft.  “Luke, I need you to calm down.  Please don’t run right now.  I need you to try to calm down.”

            “I won’t go, you can’t make me,” he said, and when Len took a step forward he sped across the room, and his vision blurred.

            “OK, I won’t make you, Luke.  I can’t make you.  Please don’t run.  I’m not moving, just please don’t use your speed right now, Lukey.”  His voice became more rushed.

            Barry walked in then.  He had been upstairs in the shower but sped down when he heard yelling.

            “Hey, what’s … is everything OK?” Barry said, abruptly changing tones.  He looked from Len to Lucas.  “Lukey, is everything OK?”

            “Don’t –” Len said, just as Barry started walking towards Lucas and then Lucas was gone, and they heard a hard thud from the kitchen.

            Len rushed over there, Barry right behind him.  Lucas was on the ground, trembling, trying to sit up.

            “Easy, easy, just lie down,” Len said, and he was on his knees, next to Lucas.  “Just lie back for a minute.”

            Lucas was gasping now, tears in his eyes, and he kept trying to sit up.

            “No,” he said, and it was so panicked now.  “I – I d-don’t want an IV.  I don’t want to go.  I won’t go.  Don’t, don’t, please.”

            “We’re not getting you an IV,” Len said, “just lie down, Lukey.  Just lie down for a minute, you need to stay still for a minute.”

            Lucas let his head hit the floor hard enough to make Len wince, and then he started hiccupping out sobs.  “I don’t want an IV,” he said, “I don’t wanna go back.  Don’t make me.  Please don’t do this to me.”

            “We’re not making you do anything, Lukey, shh.  It’s OK.  It’s OK,” Len said.  Barry’s eyes were wide, hands up, like he didn’t know what to do.  He looked from Len to Lucas, trying to figure out what had happened.

            But Lucas was looking at his Da, and he felt so weak, couldn’t even sit up, and now he couldn’t run, couldn’t get away if he decided he was taking him to Star, and Dad was there and Dad could get him anyway, he still wasn’t as fast as Dad, and he could make him go and they could strap him down and not let him up and he wouldn’t have any choice again.

            It took several minutes for him to calm down.  Several minutes of Lucas begging them not to make him get an IV and of Len reassuring him that they weren’t going to make him do anything.

            “Lukey, I know you don’t want anything, but I really, really need you to have something now,” Len said, once Lucas’s breathing had evened out some more.  “I’m sorry, Lucas.  I really, really need you to take just a few sips now.”

            Barry got the shake, and Len helped Lucas sit up just a little bit.  Lucas didn’t say anything, but Len pressed the glass into his hands, kept one hand on it to steady him.  His hands were still shaking.  Lucas took a couple of sips.

            “I didn’t pass out,” he said then.  His eyes were still full of fear.  “I didn’t.  I just – I just fell.  I didn’t pass out.  I don’t need an IV, I’ll drink more.”

            “We’re not going to get an IV,” Len said, “just drink a little bit more right now, OK?”

            Lucas drank a few more sips, and then Len helped him up and back over to the couch.  He sipped it slower there, and Len had a pained look on his face. 

            “Can you have just a little bit more?” Len said, when Lucas had stopped altogether.

            “I feel sick,” Lucas said, curling in on himself, eyes still wide.

            “I know, Lukey, but I need you to have a little bit more,” Len said.

            “I feel OK now,” Lucas said.

            “That’s good,” Len said, “could you try just a couple more sips though?”

            “Len,” Barry said, “can I talk to you for a minute in the other room.”

            Len paused.  “We’ll be right back,” he said to Lucas, and then got up.

 

 

 

 

            “What do you mean you told him you’d take him back to Star!”

            “He wouldn’t eat anything,” Len said, trying to keep his voice down.  “What was I supposed to do?”

            “Not threaten him!”  Barry whisper-yelled, waving his hands, face red.

            “I wasn’t threatening him,” Len said, “I was telling him what would have to happen.”

            “He’s terrified right now,” Barry said, “you can’t do that right now, Len.”

            “Well what exactly were we supposed to do if he wouldn’t eat and he passed out because of it?” Len said, “I’m doing my best here, Barry.”

            “He probably felt like you were trapping him,” Barry said, “like he didn’t have a choice.  Which is exactly what he keeps having nightmares about!”

            “Well I couldn’t just do nothing!  He’s starving himself!  I can already tell he’s lost weight, Barry – it’s already noticeable.”

            “You could have given him an hour – he’s not going to starve in an hour.”

            “He wasn’t eating, Barry.  I’m sorry, OK – this was obviously not the right way to handle the situation but I don’t know what the fuck is, alright?  He wouldn’t eat, and we both know that if he keeps this up he’ll wind up back at Star, and that is the last thing any of us want – I thought that at least would get through to him.”

            “Well I’m pretty sure it did,” Barry said, but he deflated a little bit.  He let out a long breath, and ran a hand over his face.  “And now he needs to eat more to make up the calories from running.”

            They went back into the living room.  They managed to get Lucas to finish the shake, and then they left it alone for a while.

            They had almost completely forgotten about the physical therapy when Caitlin arrived.  Barry let her in and she walked to the living room.

            “How are you doing, Lucas?” she said.

            Lucas had tensed as soon as the doorbell rang.  His eyes were wide.  “Fine,” he said, his voice very quiet, small sounding.

            “That’s good,” Caitlin said, “We’re going to try some exercises with your knee today.  Are you still in any pain?”

            He nodded, and a frown started to take over his expression.

            “Can you give me a one to ten?”      

            “Three.”

            “OK,” she said, “that’s pretty normal.  I’m going to take the brace off your leg, OK?”

            He nodded, and she started unstrapping it.

            She had him walk at first, just around the living room, asking if the pain was any higher without the brace.  Then she had him do some stretches, all of which went fine.  He had almost full mobility, and they weren’t too painful either.

            “It’s looking good,” she said, “I’m gonna have you try some stairs now.”

            “He hasn’t had much to eat today,” Len said.

            Caitlin paused.  She looked from Len to Lucas.  “How much is not much?”

            “I had a shake,” he said.

            “He used some speed earlier,” Barry said carefully, “and he came pretty close to passing out.”

            Caitlin took in a sharp breath.  “Alright,” she said, “how are you feeling now, Luke?  Are you dizzy at all?”

            Lucas shook his head.

            “Alright,” she said, “I want you to try some stairs, and the second you start feeling dizzy or lightheaded I need you to tell me, OK?”

            “OK.”

            Stairs were a little harder.  He could do them, didn’t have any physical problems really, but it started getting painful after one time up and down.  Caitlin had him do three, and then Lucas stopped.

            “It’s – it’s hurting more,” Lucas said when he came back down them.  He rubbed at his knee.

            “What number?”

            “Um… five?”

            “OK,” she said, “do you think you could go up and down one more time?”

            Lucas did, but he had a pained, tense expression on his face when he finished.

            “Still five?” Caitlin asked, “or was that worse?”

            “It… a little worse.  I don’t know, I… I’m not sure if it’s just because I… because it’s gone on longer…”  He waved his hand a little, but Caitlin nodded.

            “OK,” she said, “we’ll stop for now.  Every couple hours for the rest of the day, I want you to do those stretches, and I want you to walk up and down the stairs at least a few more times today, but if it starts hurting above a five, stop.”

            “OK,” he said.

            “I’m going to have you come in to Star tomorrow,” she said, “and you can try running a bit.  It looks good though.  In a few days I think you’ll be back to normal.”

           

 

 

            Lucas went back upstairs a couple hours after that, after Barry coaxed a few bites of a sandwich into him.  He took a nap, and only woke up after the rest of his siblings had gotten home from school.  He stayed upstairs though.  He didn’t want to have to do the stairs again.  It wasn’t bad going down, and only one flight wasn’t really bad anyway, but he didn’t want to go down.

            Leah came up.  She popped over to his side of the room and then dumped a stack of papers onto his bed.

            “Jenny McHale slapped Tyler Dunne across the face today in chemistry,” she said, “she finally found out he’s fucking Sarah Johnson.”

            “Hm,” he said.

            “We have an exam next week,” she said, “but you could probably get an extension.  You can copy my notes later anyway.  I grabbed your lab reports from Mrs. Davis.”

            “Thanks.”

            “I talked to Peter at lunch – he said you’re not answering his texts.”

            Lucas grabbed absently for his phone, opening it up to the messaging app which he had been ignoring.  There were a half a dozen just from Peter, a few from his other friends, especially the ones on the soccer team, asking him how he was doing.

            “Oh,” he said.

            Leah frowned at him.  “You should text him back,” she said, “he was worried about you.  Actually they’re all worried about you – do you know how many people have asked me if you’re OK the past two days?  And the teachers keep trying to give me work to bring you.  I told Mrs. Bryon that you were in a coma and so obviously would not be doing any trigonometry homework – I think she almost believed me.”

            When Lucas didn’t even look up Leah frowned.

            “Unless you want work to do …?” she said, “I mean, I grabbed a couple books from your locker, so you could always text someone in your classes and get the homework – I mean I can give you it for chem and trig, obviously.”

            “I don’t really feel like doing work.”

            “Yeah, well that’s what I tried to tell your teachers,” Leah said, “doctor’s orders, no work – I should have told them you have a concussion.”  Leah paused again, but Lucas didn’t say anything.  “How was it with Aunt Caitlin anyway?  Da said she was coming over today.”

            “Fine.”

            “Fine?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Everything is healing good?”

            “Yeah.”

            “Alright,” she said, “I’m gonna do some homework.  I’m gonna put on some music.”

            “OK.”

            She went back over to her side of the room, frowning the whole time.  They usually fought over the music – Lucas didn’t like music to study, Leah did, and Leah liked rap and pop and Lucas liked rock and alternative.  But Lucas was hardly responding to anything she said.

            An hour or so later Len called up that dinner was ready.  Lucas told Leah to tell him he wasn’t hungry.  Barry came up a couple minutes later.

            He rapped lightly on the door, which was open, and then walked in.  Lucas was sitting up in bed, his laptop open, scrolling absently.  Barry sat down on the edge of his bed.

            “Leah said you weren’t hungry,” Barry said, “But do you think you could come down and at least try a few bites of something?”

            Lucas wouldn’t look up.  He shook his head.  “I’m not hungry,” he said softly.

            “Would a protein shake or a smoothie be better?” Barry asked.

            Lucas shook his head.

            “We really need you to eat something, Lucas.”

            There was a long pause.  “I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Lucas mumbled then.

            Barry frowned.  “Right now?”

            Lucas nodded.

            “It might actually help to eat something,” Barry said, “to get something in your stomach.”

            Lucas shook his head.  “It got worse earlier, with the shake,” he said.

            “I’m sorry you feel sick, Lucas,” Barry said, “but you still need food.  We could just do a protein shake – something without a ton of calorie powder, so it doesn’t fill you up so much.”

            “OK,” Lucas said after another pause.

            “Why don’t you come downstairs though,” Barry said.

            “I’m tired,” Lucas said.

            “Luke, I know you don’t feel well right now,” Barry said, “but it’ll help to be around other people.”

            “I want to stay up here.”

            Barry sighed.  “OK,” he said, “I’ll bring you up the shake, OK?”

            “OK.”

            Barry brought up the shake, asked him again to go downstairs.  Lucas refused, and Barry tried to talk to him a little more, but he kept getting one word answers, and eventually left him again to go eat.

            Lucas sipped at the shake for a bit, but he felt sicker almost immediately.  After about fifteen minutes of sipping, he got out of bed, and peered outside his room.  Everyone else was still downstairs.  He went into the bathroom and dumped out all of the shake but the last bit, and went back.

 

 

 

            He went back to school the next day.  He wore the brace, told the lie that Caitlin had come up with for him, said he’d be fine in a week or two, and apologized with a “yeah, sorry, I was sleeping a lot, you know” when his friends asked why he hadn’t answered any of their messages.  He was behind – hadn’t yet touched the pile of homework waiting for him, and it only served to stress him out more.  He didn’t want to be there, and it was a struggle to keep a smile on his face, to actually pay attention to anything anyone said to him, to not look like a zombie.  By the end of the day he was just exhausted – just wanted to go home and take a nap.

            But instead he went to Star.  He choked down half a calorie bar, and ran on the treadmill in a couple short bursts.  It hurt his knee, but not as much as he thought it would.  Caitlin was concerned that he still wasn’t eating enough, and she didn’t want him running more than that without enough energy, but she said his knee was still looking good.  He left with instructions to eat enough the next day to be able to do some longer running, and to keep doing the stretches she had shown him.

            When he came back into their bedroom after taking a shower, wearing only sweatpants, Leah looked up at him.  She frowned.

            “You’ve lost weight,” she said.

            He moved over to her closet.  She had a mirror there, while his didn’t.  He ran his fingers over his ribs.  The sweatpants hung loosely over his hips, and his stomach was shrunken in.  Even his face looked thin.

            “I haven’t been hungry,” he said, and then went and grabbed a T-shirt and pulled it on.

            “You need to eat anyway.”

            “Yeah, I know,” he said, and he couldn’t help the biting irritation that sank into the words

            Leah got up and went over to his side of the room, where he had gotten some books out, was going to sit at his desk.  “You’ve gotta be underweight by now.  You’re not healthy, Luke.”

            “I’ll eat more.”

            “You won’t even be able to play soccer like that.”

            “Yeah, well I can’t play soccer for another two weeks anyway, so it doesn’t really matter, does it?”

            Leah was silent for a moment.  “Are you… are you trying to lose weight?”

            Lucas started, and then turned around.  “Am I – why the fuck would I be trying to lose weight, Leah?  I’m not some anorexic model, I’m just not fucking hungry, OK?”

            Leah clenched her teeth.  “Fuck you,” she said, “I’m just trying to help, alright?  You _look_ like a fucking anorexic model so why the fuck shouldn’t I think that’s what you’re doing?  I guess I just can’t understand why you’re so intent on starving yourself, Luke.”

            “Because I’m not fucking hungry!”

            “I know you’re not!” she yelled, “but I figured you would have sucked it up already and just ate anyway.  I know you feel sick, I know you’re not hungry, but you are starving yourself, Luke.  You’re sick – you’re making yourself sick.  You eat when you don’t want to all the time, why is this so different?”

            “Because I had fucking surgery!” He yelled, and then suddenly he was standing, a foot away from her.  “I had surgery while I was _awake_ ,” he said, “They cut me open, they fucking cut me with a scalpel and I had to just sit there and take it, and then they grabbed my hands and cuffed me to the fucking bed, they – they cuffed me down and I begged them to stop, Leah, I _begged_ them to stop and they _wouldn’t_ , I fucking screamed at them to stop, I thought I was going to die, I just wanted to die, it hurt so much, it –”  His voice cracked and he stopped abruptly, and then he spun around and wiped his arm across his eyes, sniffed.  His shoulders trembled for a minute.

            “Luke,” Leah said, and she wanted to reach out, but she didn’t.

            He was breathing hard, trying to control himself.  He didn’t turn around.  He got into bed instead and pulled the blanket up over his head.

            Leah sat down at the foot of his bed.  “I’m sorry, Luke,” she said.

            He didn’t say anything, and Leah didn’t know what to say.  Eventually she got up and went back to her side of the room.


	5. The Nurse's Office

            Lucas sat across from Barry and Len at the kitchen table.  He looked at them almost blankly.

            “I don’t want to,” he said.

            “It could really help,” Len said.  “We’d find someone who specializes in pain management and trauma.”

            “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he said.

            “I see a therapist,” Barry said, “I’ve seen one for years, since Wentworth was born.  It’s OK to need help.”

            “A lot of people see counselors,” Len said, “I’m sure many of your friends do, you probably just don’t know about it.”

            “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” Lucas said again.

            “We really think it could help,” Len said.  “You’ve been dealing with a lot, Luke.  It could help to talk to someone about it, and they can teach you strategies to deal with everything, and ways to calm down when you start getting anxious.”

            Lucas leaned his elbow on the table, head resting against his hand.  “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he said again, an edge to his voice.  He stared at the kitchen table.  “Either tell me you’re going to make me see someone anyway or let me go back upstairs.  I have homework.”

            Barry looked taken aback.  Len just closed his eyes for a moment.

            “We’re not going to make you see someone, Luke,” Len said.  His voice was quiet. “We just think it would be helpful.  Why don’t you want to go?”

            “I don’t want to talk to anyone,” he repeated.

            “Why not?”

            “I don’t want to talk about it.”

            “It’s not good to keep everything bottled up, Luke,” Barry said, “it just makes things worse.”

            Lucas didn’t say anything, just looked away, to the side.

            “Just, let us know if you change your mind,” Len said, “therapy can be really helpful, Luke.”

            Lucas got up and went upstairs, leaving Barry and Len sitting there.

            “Well,” Len said, “that went about as well as I thought it would.”

            Barry put his head in his hands.

 

 

 

 

            Lucas kept having nightmares, and he steadily ignored the scale in the bathroom.  He knew he had lost weight.  He didn’t want to know how much.  He stopped telling anyone when he got dizzy.  It happened so often now.  He was never hungry.  He choked down food at dinner and mixed calorie powder into his drinks, just enough that he could still run.  He was playing soccer again.  It had been over two weeks now, and it was long enough to keep up appearances that he had been injured, but that it wasn’t as bad as they initially feared.  He ignored the sick anxiety in his stomach when he thought about the possibility of hurting himself again playing, and almost seemed to play even more recklessly and aggressively, to compensate.  He was angry at himself for getting scared, hated the way it made him hesitate when he was playing, and forced himself to play harder because of it.

            He stopped sleeping without a shirt on, stopped changing at all in his room, so Leah wouldn’t see his ribs.  She hadn’t said anything since the last time, but she watched him across the dinner table and in the cafeteria at lunch, when he mixed a protein shake and threw away his lunch tray.  He changed as quickly as possible in the locker room, hoping no one would notice.  He stayed up late, until he was absolutely exhausted, before going to bed, and even then had nightmares.  Sometimes he tossed and turned all night, other times he woke up to the light switched on and Leah shaking his shoulder.  She didn’t say anything, just sat with him until he was ready to lie back down.  He felt guilty for waking her up all the time, but was so terrified when he woke from a nightmare that he couldn’t manage to tell her it was OK if she went back to bed.

            One day he was alone in their room doing homework when there was a knock at their door.  He looked up, and the door creaked open a couple inches.  Cyrus peered inside, and then opened the door wide.  He walked in carrying a plate of peanut butter brownies.

            “I made your favorite,” Cyrus said, and he walked in and held them out to him.

            Lucas raised his eyebrows.  He took the plate from Cyrus, smiling, but confused.  “What for?”

            “You looked tired,” Cyrus said.  “Michael said you were sad.”

            The smile dropped from Lucas’s face, but Cyrus didn’t notice.  He was looking down at his shoes.

            “So I made you brownies,” he said, “We had the stuff anyway.  Well, almost all of it.  If it doesn’t taste good I’ll call Dad and tell him to pick up the stuff we didn’t have, but Uncle Mick said you can substitute the stick butter for the regular stuff if we didn’t have any –”

            Lucas took a bite.  “It tastes great, Cyrus.  Thanks.”

            Cyrus grinned.  “Do you want milk too?  I can get you milk.  Just don’t tell Dad – he gets mad when I bake stuff to eat before dinner.”

            “I won’t tell Dad,” Lucas said, although he doubted their Dad would be mad this time.  

            After Cyrus went back downstairs, Lucas placed the plate of brownies on the nightstand next to his bed.  He ate two of them while he worked.  Then he dumped the rest into a plastic bag, carefully tied it off, and snuck it into the garbage in the kitchen with his own small trash bin, so Cyrus wouldn’t know he was throwing them out.  He was full at that point, could barely choke down dinner, and after that felt sick, like he was going to throw up.

            A couple days later he was sitting at lunch, at his friends’ usual table, the first one there.  He didn’t bother getting in line for the cafeteria lunch.  He’d checked what they were serving already, decided he didn’t want any, and he was already feeling nauseous.  He had calorie powder, but decided he’d wait until the afternoon to drink it with his water.  It didn’t matter until he had to go to soccer anyway.  As long as he got calories in before that he’d be fine.

            He was sitting there when Peter walked over and dumped his bag on the seat next to him.

            “Hey,” Peter said, and Lucas looked up.  Peter went to get in line, paused, and then looked back.  He looked oddly at Lucas.

            “What?” Lucas said, frowning.

            “Are you sick?” Peter said.  He frowned at him.  “you look pale.”

            “I’m fine,” Lucas said, and he looked back down at his phone.

            Peter looked at him, then at the empty table in front of him.  “Are you going to get in line?”

            Lucas shook his head.  “I’m not hungry,” he said, “I had a big breakfast.  I’ll just have a protein shake later before practice.”

            Peter frowned.  “Are you trying to put on muscle or something?  What’s with all the protein shakes lately?”

            Lucas shrugged.  “I like them.”

            “You should get some lunch,” Peter said.

            “I’m not hungry.”

            “You should still try to eat something.  Are you sure you’re not sick?  You look sick.”

            “I don’t know, maybe I’m getting a stomach bug,” Lucas said, “it’s fine.”

            “OK,” Peter said, but he frowned before he went to get into line.

            As lunch went on, Lucas did start to feel sick though.  He got more and more nauseas, and then he started getting dizzy as well.  When he stood up from the lunch table to file out with everyone else, to his next class, his head spun.

            Peter turned back to look, and suddenly he had a hand on Lucas’s shoulder.

            “Hey, are you alright?” he said.

            Lucas’s vision blurred, and he didn’t respond. 

            “Luke?  You’re really pale, man.  Are you OK?  Maybe you should sit down.”

            Lucas shook his head, willed the dizziness to clear. 

            “I’m fine,” he said.

            “Luke, you’re shaking,” Peter said.

            Lucas looked down, and sure enough his hands were trembling, actually his whole body was shaking a little bit.  He felt a sudden flash of fear that he would start vibrating, that the speed force would mix in, but that didn’t appear to be happening.

            “Luke, I think you should go to the nurse,” Peter said.

            “No,” Lucas said, “No, I’m fine.  I – I just – I’m fine.  I need to get to class.”

            There were people looking at them now, whispering, a couple of his other friends stopping to ask what was wrong.

            Lucas started walking forward, to his next class.  Peter followed him, frowning the whole time.  He made it halfway down the hallway, then suddenly black dots were taking over his vision, and the world spun.

           

            Awareness came back slowly, in layers.  First noise, then words, then he opened his eyes to see Peter and a teacher he didn’t know kneeling over him.  A second later the background noise hit, and then he noticed all the people standing around, all congregating, a couple of his friends standing close, another teacher telling people to back off, to get to class.

            “Luke?  Hey, can you hear me?”

            Lucas looked to Peter, eyes flicking over.  His vision was still swimming a little bit.  He blinked, frowned, moved his arms a little, pushed himself back, and was overcome with how weak he felt all of a sudden.

            “W-what?” he said.  He started to push himself up on his elbows.

            “Easy, just lie back,” the teacher said, but Lucas shook his head.  He pushed himself up, looking down at his hands, still shaking.

            “What happened?” he said.  He looked around, everyone looking at him.

            “You passed out,” Peter said.

            Lucas looked at him, confused, uncomprehending.  That couldn’t be right.  He never passed out.  Aunt Caitlin had told him before, his body was remarkable at making sure he stayed on his feet, even more so than his Dad.  He healed a little slower, but he could take more hits and keep going; his body was more stable.

            “Do you have a water bottle?” the teacher asked and Peter grabbed it from his backpack, dumped next to him.

            “Here, take a few sips,” Peter said.

            Lucas took the water, drank a little from it.  His hands were still shaking.  He stared at them.

            A few moments later Lucas looked up to see the school nurse with a wheel chair coming towards them.  Lucas still didn’t understand, felt like his head was filled with cotton, but he saw the nurse and suddenly a cold feeling spread into his chest.  He started pushing himself up onto his knees.

            “Hey, easy, Luke,” Peter said.

            Lucas shook his head.  “I’m fine.  I got dizzy for a second, I’m fine.”

            “You hit your head,” Peter said.

            “What?  No, I didn’t.  It doesn’t hurt.  I’m fine.”

            “Hi Lucas,” the nurse said then.  She crouched down by them, where Lucas was still trying to get up.  “My name’s Kathy.  Can you tell me today’s date?”

            “Today’s date?” he said.

            When he just kept staring at her, she frowned.  “OK, Luke.  We’re gonna head back to my office now, and I’m gonna give your parents a call, OK?”

            “What?  No, I’m fine,” he said.  He struggled upwards, stumbled, and leaned against the wall.

            “Luke, I really need you to sit down now,” she said, hands up, gesturing at the wheelchair.  “We don’t want you to take another fall right now.”

            “I’m fine,” he said, “I – I’m fine.”

            “Luke, you just passed out,” Peter said.  He reached for his arm and Lucas jolted away.  Peter retracted his arm quickly, alarmed.

            “I’m fine,” Lucas insisted.  “I – I’m fine.”

            “Luke –” the teacher said.

            “I just didn’t eat enough,” Lucas said, “low blood sugar.  I’m fine.”

            “Luke, we need to make sure you don’t have a concussion,” the nurse said.

            “I don’t have a concussion,” Lucas said.  He didn’t know if he had one, couldn’t tell, but even if he did it be healed in a few hours.

            He turned to go, turned to force his way into the crowd, away from the nurse and the wheelchair, and ran straight into Michael.

            Michael took one look at the dazed, panicked expression on Lucas face and took in a sharp breath.

            “Hey,” he said.  He looked behind him, at Peter and the nurse and the teacher.  He looked back at Lucas.  “We’re gonna walk to the nurse’s office,” he said.

            “No, I’m going to class, I’m fine, Michael –”

            “Hey, it’s OK,” Michael said.  “It’s OK, let’s walk, OK?  What happened?”

            And Michael moved, was already turning, moved his hand from Lucas’s shoulder onto his back, leading him away.  People stepped aside to let them through.

            “I’m fine,” Lucas said.

            “OK,” Michael said, and they kept walking and Lucas still felt lightheaded, panicked, but it was all distorted, numbed.  He didn’t know what was going on.  “We’re just gonna walk,” he said, “were you getting dizzy?”

            Lucas nodded.

            “Did you not eat enough?”

            Lucas nodded again. 

            “Alright, we’ll get you something to eat then – do you have a calorie bar in your bag?”

            “Yeah – oh, I – I left –”

            He turned to look back, to where he’d left his bag on the ground.  Michael directed him forward again.  Peter and the nurse and the teacher were following them, and there was still a good number of students peering over at them, some blatantly following, other’s looking around lockers.

            “Peter has it,” Michael said.  “it’s fine.  We’ll sit down and get you something to eat, OK?”

            “OK,” Lucas said.

            He didn’t even realize Michael was taking him to the nurse’s office until they were there, and then he stopped abruptly in front of it and turned back to him.

            “No,” Lucas said, eyes going wide, panic running up his throat again.  He tried to back up.  “No – I”

            “We’re just going to sit down and get you something to eat,” Michael said.  “That’s all.  We’re just sitting down and eating.”

            “No, I – Michael, I don’t –” Lucas said.

            “Just sitting down and eating,” Michael said, still pushing him forward.  “Nothing else.”

            “Nothing else?”

            “Nothing else.”

            Lucas looked behind them.  “No, the – the nurse is –”

            “She’s not gonna do anything.  It’s OK.  I won’t let her do anything.  We’re just gonna sit and eat something.”

            Lucas looked at him, scared, but finally went into the office with him.  Michael led him over to one of the beds where they both sat down.  Peter and the nurse entered.  Michael gestured at the bag and Peter handed it to him.  He opened up the front pocket and started rummaging around until he found a calorie bar.  He pressed it into Lucas’s hand and Lucas unwrapped it and took a bite.  He chewed slowly.

            “He has a low blood sugar problem,” Michael said to the nurse, “it’s probably why he passed out.”

            She nodded, then turned to Lucas.  “Lucas, I’m just gonna ask you a few questions, now,” the nurse said.

            Lucas looked over at Michael, but Michael just nodded at the nurse.  “Just some questions,” he said to Lucas.

            The nurse asked several questions, which Lucas answered.  Then she said she was going to call his parents.

            Lucas’s eyes widened.  “No, that’s – it’s fine.  I mean, I’m fine.  I don’t need to go home.  I feel fine now, I just needed to eat.  I have soccer practice after school anyway that I really can’t miss, and I’m fine, I –”

            “You really shouldn’t be playing soccer or exercising anymore today,” the nurse said, “and you need to either go to the hospital or to an urgent care today, unless you can get an emergency appointment with your primary doctor.  You probably need fluids.”

            Lucas shook his head.  “No, this – this happens sometimes.  I’m fine.  I didn’t eat enough today.  I was feeling sick.  Just, a migraine or something.  I don’t need to see a doctor.  I’m fine.”

            “Luke, it’s OK,” Michael said.

            Lucas turned to him, face pale with panic now.  “No, I’m not going,” he said.

            Michael turned to Peter.  “Peter, could you go tell Lucas’s teacher he’s at the nurse?”

            Peter looked between the two of them.

            “I’m not leaving,” Lucas said, sputtering, almost yelling at Michael.  “I’m fine, I don’t’ have to go, I’m fine.”

            Peter swallowed.  “Yeah,” he said to Michael, “sure.”  He was smart enough to realize that Michael was just getting rid of him, smart enough to realize that something was very wrong, and Michael figured Lucas wouldn’t want him there for whatever was about to follow.  Peter looked at Lucas, and put a hand on his shoulder for just a second.  “Hey, just text me if you need anything, OK?” he said.

            Lucas nodded.  “Yeah, I – I’ll see you at practice.  I’ll be at practice.”

            “OK,” Peter said, frowning.  He grabbed his own bag and left, if a bit reluctantly.

            The nurse went to the phone, and Lucas lurched upwards, but Michael grabbed his arm and pulled him back down.

            “I don’t need to go home,” Lucas said.

            “Lucas, I need to notify your parents about what happened,” the nurse said gently.

            “No, it’s fine, really, I’m fine,” Lucas said, almost pleading at this point.  “I don’t have to go, please don’t call them.  It’s OK, I’m fine.”

            “Lucas,” Michael said, “Luke, look at me.”

            Lucas turned to him, eyes still darting.  “I’m _fine_ ,” he said, “I – I feel fine now, I just had to eat, I’m fine.”

            “She has to call Dad and Da,” Michael said, as calmly as he could.  “She has to call them anyway.  It’s OK.”

            “I’m not going to Star,” he burst out, “I’m not going, I won’t go back.”

            “Luke, just take a deep breath,” Michael said, “It’s going to be fine.  You’re going to be fine.”

            “Da said if I passed out I’d have to get an IV,” Lucas said, and suddenly his bottom lip was trembling, his throat closing up, breath escalating, “I can’t, Michael, I won’t, I won’t go.  I’m not going back.  I won’t go back.”

            “Luke, breathe,” Michael said slowly, “breathe, Luke.  It’s OK.  It’s OK.”

            And Lucas burst out crying.  Michael hugged him, and Lucas cried and kept repeating over and over again that he wouldn’t go, he wasn’t going.  Michael just rubbed his back, and said nothing.  The nurse came in with the phone a minute later.

            “I have your Dad on the phone, Lucas,” she said gently.  “He wants to talk to you.”

            Lucas shook his head, and started shaking all over.  Michael held out his hand and the nurse gave him the phone.

            “Dad?”

            “Michael?  Is that you?” Barry said over the line.

            “Yeah, I’m here with Luke.”

            “OK, I just – Da is coming to pick Lucas up, is he – the nurse said he was upset, that he passed out?  But besides being upset he seems OK?  Do you know what happened?”

            “He said he hadn’t eaten enough,” Michael said.

            “I didn’t,” Lucas said, “it’s just that, and now I ate, so I’m fine, I’m _fine_.”

            “Is that Luke?  Can I talk to him?” Barry said.

            “Luke, Dad wants to talk to you,” Michael said, and this time Lucas hesitated but took the phone.

            “Dad?”

            “Hi, Lukey.  I heard you’re having a rough day.”

            Lucas choked on a sob.  “I’m fine,” he said, “I don’t – I don’t need to leave.  I’m fine, I feel fine now, I didn’t eat enough but now I did so I’m fine – I just, I just didn’t have enough and I got dizzy, it’s fine now.”

            Barry hesitated over the line.  “Lukey, can you take a few deep breaths for me?”

            “No,” Lucas said, almost yelled, “no, I’m _fine_.”

            “OK, OK,” Barry said, backtracking, “then, can you tell me what’s wrong, Luke?”

            “I – I’m fine,” Lucas said, quieter this time, like he hadn’t been expecting that.

            “You sound really upset, Luke.  The nurse said you were upset.”

            “I – I just – I’m fine.”

            “OK,” Barry said, “I’m glad you’re feeling better now.  But Da is still going to come pick you up now, OK?  We’re gonna head over and see Aunt Caitlin just to check and make –”

            “No,” Lucas said, “no, I’m fine, I don’t need to.  I have soccer practice – I can’t miss it.”

            “I think your coach will understand, Luke.”

            “No, I – I’m fine.  Dad, I’m _fine_.”

            “We’re gonna see Aunt Caitlin just to make sure, OK?”

            “No, I – no, I’m fine.”

            “Luke –”

            “I don’t wanna go to Star, I don’t need to, I’m fine.”

            Barry paused.  “Lukey,” he said carefully, “we just want to make sure everything’s OK for you.  It shouldn’t be a long trip.  Aunt Caitlin’s just going to check you out, that’s all.”

            “No, I don’t wanna go,” Lucas said, “I wanna stay at school.  I’m gonna stay at school, I’m fine, I have math next period, I have to –”

            “Luke, Da’s coming to pick you up already.  Whatever you miss I’m sure Leah can get homework or notes for you, or one of your friends.  But Da’s gonna pick you up, and you’re just going to take a quick trip to Star, and –”

            “No,” Lucas said, “no, I – I’m not going.  I’m not going to Star.”

            There was another pause.  “Luke, I really think you should try to take a few deep breaths,” Barry said, “it’ll help.”

            “I’m fine,” he said again, “I – I just – I just don’t wanna go to Star.  I’m fine, I don’t need to.  I’ll eat more – I ate – I ate a calorie bar, I’m fine, I swear I’m fine, I promise.”

            “I believe you, Luke,” Barry said, “but we need Caitlin to check you out, just in case.  It’ll only –”

            “ _No_.”

            “Lukey, why don’t you want to go to Star?”

            “Be-because I don’t,” he said, “I’m not going.”

            “Luke, she’s just going to check you out,” Barry said gently, “nothing bad, nothing painful.  She’s just going to make sure everything’s OK.”

            “You’re lying,” he said.

            Barry was a little taken aback.  “Luke, why – I’m not lying.  Luke, she’s just going to make sure it’s all OK, that’s it.  I know… Luke, I know it can be really stressful to go back after having a big procedure, but this will be nothing like that, nothing on that scale, OK?  It’s going to be OK.  Nothing bad is going to happen.”

            “Da said I’d have to get an IV,” Lucas said, letting out another sob, another shudder of trembling, “I – I _don’t_ want an _I-V_.”

            Barry took in a long breath.  “I don’t know that you’ll need an IV,” he said carefully, “but even if you do, those aren’t bad, Lucas.  They only hurt for a second, and then you just have to wait a bit and it comes out.  You’ve had IV’s before, they don’t hurt much at all.”

            “I don’t want one.  Dad, I can’t.  _I can’t_.”

            “I know you can,” Barry said.  “I know it’s not fun, and they can still be scary, but you will be just fine.  Do you want me to come too?  Da was just going to take you but –”

            “ _Yes_ ,” Lucas said.

            “OK.  OK, I’ll go, I’ll meet you guys there, alright?  And when Dad picks you up, Michael or Leah or both can come too, OK?  If you want either of them to.  They don’t have to, if you don’t want a lot of people there.  But it’s going to be fine, Lucas.  It’s going to be fine.”

            “I don’t want an IV,” he said, “I don’t wanna go, Dad.”

            “We don’t know that you need an IV,” Barry said, “Dad was just worried about you when he said that.  You don’t necessarily need an IV.  You do need to be checked out.  But you’re going to be fine, OK, Luke?  Everything’s gonna be fine, and we’ll be going home in no time, OK?”

            “I don’t wanna go,” Lucas said, and he let out a sob.

            “Try to take deep breaths, Luke,” Barry said, “I can stay on the phone with you until Da gets there if you want.”

            “Yeah,” Lucas said.


	6. Star Labs

            Len got there twenty minutes later, at which point Lucas had managed to calm down at least a little bit.  Michael texted one of his friends, and they brought him some stuff from his locker which he would need.  When Len got there Lucas finally got off the phone with Barry and wiped at his eyes and face.  It was obvious he had been crying, and he kept his head down as he and Michael walked to the front entrance of the building, hoping no one he knew saw him.  They met Len at the office, where he signed them out.  When Michael asked if he wanted him to come with him Lucas just nodded.  Michael asked if Lucas wanted him to text Leah too, but he shook his head.  Too many people and he just felt crowded, and he didn’t want Michael to leave then, so they left with Len.

            As soon as Len saw them coming his face dropped.  He’d only been able to talk to Barry briefly, and at that point all Barry knew was that Lucas had passed out.  Barry had sent another text message along, saying that Lucas was very upset and afraid of going to Star, but that was it.  He hadn’t been expecting the red eyes and slouched posture, the nervous trembling, and Michael’s hand on his shoulder.

            Len tried to talk to him, first about what happened, and then just about school, about soccer, his friends, anything, but he got very little response.  He talked with Michael instead, to keep the car from being silent and leave Lucas alone with his thoughts.   

            When they got there Barry was waiting with Caitlin.  He had obviously already filled her in on what happened, and on how nervous Lucas was.  Lucas got worse as they entered Star Labs.  He tensed up completely, and he looked incredibly anxious.

            “Hi Lukey,” Barry said when they entered.  He gave him a small smile.

            Caitlin smiled to, and Lucas stopped, heartrate suddenly skyrocketing.  He wiped his hands on his jeans, had the overwhelming desire to run.  His hands started shaking again.

            “We’re just going to start with some normal check-up stuff, OK?” Caitlin said.  “Can I have you take off your shoes and jacket, Luke?  I want to get your weight.”

            Lucas felt a sick rolling in his stomach for a completely different reason.  He followed Caitlin into the exam room off the cortex and toed off his shoes, then shrugged out of his jacket.  He stepped onto the scale.

            It read 101.

            Lucas stared at the number, felt his stomach clench.  He looked up.

            Caitlin had a frown on her face.  Barry’s eyes were wide with shock.  If Caitlin was surprised then she concealed it better.

            “OK,” she said.  She looked down at a tablet she held.  “I took your weight about a month ago for your last check in.  You weighed 132 then.  You’ve lost about 30 pounds, Lucas.”

            Lucas stepped off the scale.  He didn’t look at his Da or Michael to see what their expressions were.

            “I haven’t been hungry,” he mumbled.

            Caitlin nodded.  She took in a long breath.  “I know we’ve said it before, and I know you’re probably sick of hearing it, and I know it’s not as simple as it sounds, but you really need to eat anyway Lucas.  Because you expend so much energy when you run, you can lose a lot of weight very fast.  You’re underweight right now, Lucas.  To the point where it’s getting somewhat dangerous.  No more running until I clear you for it, OK?  If you lose even a few more pounds and then run too much you could put your body under enough strain to trigger a heart attack.  So no running right now.  Not until you gain at least ten pounds, and not until I check you out again and say it’s OK.”

            Lucas felt numb, could hear “heart attack” ringing in his ears.  He was fifteen.  Fifteen year old’s didn’t have heart attacks.

            “OK,” he said.

            “I’m just going to hook up a couple of monitors, OK?” Caitlin said.

            He nodded, and sat down on the bed there.  She hooked up several monitors, tracking his vitals.  She frowned when she looked at it.

            “Your heart’s already under strain,” she said.  “Nothing serious yet, nothing really bad, but we really need you to start gaining some weight back.”

            “I’m just nervous,” Lucas said, shaking his head.  “It’s just – it’s just high because I’m nervous.”

            “Normally when you’re nervous your blood pressure raises,” Caitlin said, “yours is abnormally low, Lucas.  And I know you’re nervous, and that’s why your heart rate is higher than normal, but it’s also irregular, and that’s worrying.”

            “Oh,” Lucas said.  He fiddled with his hands.  “I… I didn’t know it was that bad.  I… I didn’t know I’d lost that much weight.”

            Caitlin smiled at him, and put a hand on his shoulder.  “It’s OK, Luke,” she said.

            “I haven’t been running,” Lucas said, “not much at all.  I’ve been… I’ve been making sure to eat, before I run, but I haven’t been running much anyway.”

            “That’s good,” Caitlin said, “but for right now, no running at all.  Even to get ready in the morning, or to speed through something.  No speed right now, OK?”

            He nodded.

            “OK,” she said, “I’d like to take a blood test now, Luke.”

            Lucas froze.  His face fell.  “Why?”

            “I want to check your electrolytes and blood sugar, along with the rest of your levels,” she said.

            “I just ate,” he said.  “I… I ate a calorie bar.”

            “That’s good,” she said, “but I really need to check anyway.”

            “Can I do it tomorrow?” he asked.  He looked over at Len and Barry, eyes darting before going bac to Caitlin.  “Please?”

            “I’m sorry, Lucas, I need to make sure nothing is too low.  I promise I’ll be really quick.”

            Lucas didn’t say anything, but his face crumpled.

            Len moved over to him and pulled up a chair next to the bed.  He put a hand on Lucas’s arm.  “It’s OK,” he said, “it’s just a prick.  It’ll be over quick.”

            Caitlin went and retrieved her kit and Barry moved to Lucas’s side as well.

            “You’ve done lots of them before,” Barry said, “they’re not bad.  It’s OK.”

            Lucas wasn’t usually bad with needles.  He usually took blood tests and shots very well, but after his ACL tear, neither Barry nor Len were surprised at his anxiety.  Barry typically got much worse with even simple procedures after anything bad, and it appeared that Lucas was the same.  They just hoped that it was temporary, and the ACL tear hadn’t sparked a new, more permanent fear of any and all medical procedures.

            Lucas looked away when Caitlin approached, his breathing kicking up, looking desperately over at Len and Barry instead.

            “Is this side OK, Luke?” Caitlin asked.

            He nodded, squeezing his eyes shut and leaning away.

            “OK, Luke, I’m going to take the sample now – do you want me to count?”

            He shook his head, eyes still closed, trembling.

            “OK, I’m going to go ahead now then.”

            Caitlin inserted the needle and Lucas flinched, a yelp coming up his throat.  His eyes opened wide, desperate, scared.

            “It’s OK,” Len said, “Just look at us.  It’s OK.  She’s almost done.”

            “Done,” Caitlin said, and she pressed gauze over the wound.  Lucas let out a sob.

            “It’s all done,” Barry said.  He took Lucas’s hand and squeezed down but it was limp in his.  “It’s all over.”

            Lucas started trembling worse, started hyperventilating worse.  He could feel himself panicking, feel everything crashing down around him.

            “Lukey, try to take some deep breaths,” Len said, “it’s all done.  It’s OK.”

            Lucas brought his hands up to his face, hiding there, blinking to stop tears that fell anyway.  He felt awful all of a sudden, felt absolutely terrible.

            “I wanna go home,” he said.  He let out another sob, tears falling down his face.  His whole body was trembling.

            It was just too much, too much all at once.  He wanted to go home.  He wanted to forget all this happened.  He just wanted to go to sleep, but knew he’d have nightmares.  He was going to have awful nightmares that night, he already knew.  It just made more dread curl in his stomach.

            Barry and Len tried to comfort him, but it didn’t seem to do much.  Michael stood by, frowning, not knowing what to do.  He hated watching Lucas cry.  It felt wrong, felt surreal.  This was his annoying little brother, and his annoying wannabe jock little brother didn’t ball his eyes out over a blood test, and it wasn’t that Michael found it shameful or embarrassing or anything else, it just seemed so out of place – Lucas was supposed to be a brat, was supposed to tease him over dinner, supposed to spread his feet out obnoxiously on top of Michael’s homework left on the coffee table.  He wasn’t supposed to be crying and terrified and trembling.  It was all wrong, and that just made everything seem worse, the out of place quality just highlighting how awful the situation was, how awful it was that Lucas had to go through this.  It reminded Michael of the ACL tear, of holding his hand while he begged them to stop, and that had Michael feeling like he was going to throw up.  The few times he’d woken up in the middle of the night to hear Lucas screaming himself awake from another nightmare, he’d bolted upright, dread and sick panic rising in his throat.  He’d watched a movie recently, and had to stop halfway through.  The screams, any screams now, reminded him of Lucas.

            So Michael stood there, because he didn’t know what to say and Lucas had wanted him to come but he had thought that was more for the car ride than anything, and now Len and Barry were there and he didn’t want to crowd Lucas.  He calmed down eventually.  He stopped crying, and the trembling quieted down.  He started talking about soccer instead with Barry, and then about his history class.  It helped to distract him from everything, and in turn calm down. 

            When Caitlin came back in from analyzing the blood sample Michael was the first to see her.  He took one look at her expression and all of that dread was back.  He saw the moment Lucas saw it too, how he tensed up all over again.

            “Luke,” Caitlin said gently, in the voice they had all come to recognize meant she was going to say something unpleasant.  “Your electrolyte levels are all really low.  Your blood sugar is too, even though you just ate.  It’s low enough that I’m surprised you only passed out once.  I’m going to need to give you some fluids.”

            Lucas’s face went pale.  “I – I can eat something.  I’ll eat another bar.  And – and Gatorade has electrolytes in it, right?”

            “I really would like to give you some IV fluids,” she said, as gently as she could.

            Lucas’s face fell.  He started shaking his head.  “N-no.  No.”

            “It would only be for about twenty minutes,” she said.

            Lucas started shaking again.  “No, I – I don’t want to. No.”

            “You really need them, Luke.  I can put on a show for you while you wait, or we can give you a laptop,” she said, “it’ll only hurt for a second, and then you just have to wait.  We’ll get something to distract you for it.”

            “I don’t want an IV,” he said.  “I-I _don’t_ want an IV.”  He looked at Barry suddenly, desperately, panicked.  “ _Dad_ ,” he said, and tears welled up in his eyes.

            Barry leaned over, let Lucas lean against his shoulder.  “It’s OK,” Barry said steadily, “It’s going to be alright.”

            “No, no I don’t want one, I don’t want one,” he said, “I can’t.  Please, I can’t.”

            “Lukey, it’s going to be just fine,” Barry said softly, “it’s going to be just fine.  You’ve had it before, remember?  It’s not bad.  It’s not that bad.”

            “I _ha-ate_ it.  I don’t want one.  _I don’t want one, Dad_.”

            And he was crying again, shaking his head.  Barry kept talking to him, kept trying to get him to calm down.  Len did too.  Lucas started to sit up, but Barry blocked him, wrapping his arms around him in a hug and Lucas cried against his shoulder.  Eventually they got him to take some deep breaths and calm down a little bit, but he was still crying when Caitlin went over with the IV.

            “Do you have a preference on where I put it in, Luke?” Caitlin asked gently.  “I can do this arm, or the other, and your hand or your arm or wrist.”

            Lucas just shook his head.

            “Arm usually hurts less,” Barry said.

            “Is that OK with you, Lucas?” Caitlin said.

            He didn’t respond, didn’t look up.

            “OK, Luke, I’m going to just go here then,” Caitlin said.  She gently tapped the crook of his arm, waited for any objections, and then took his arm in her hands.  A second later he tore it back, another bout of trembling taking over as he shook his head and pulled his arm in tight to his body.

            “I know this is really scary, Luke,” Barry said softly, running his fingers through Lucas’s hair, “but we need you to let Aunt Caitlin take a look at your arm now.  The sooner it’s over with the better, right?  It’s OK.  You’re OK.”

            Lucas shook his head.  “No,” he said, “I don’t want to.  No.”

            “Lukey, you’re being really, really brave,” Len said, “but we need you to be brave just a little bit longer, OK?  We’ll stay right here, and Caitlin has the TV up.  Why don’t we pick out a TV show first, OK?”

            Caitlin backed off for a minute.  She handed Len the remote.  She had already brought the TV screen up, and Len went to Netflix. 

            “What’s the name of the show you’ve been watching?” Len asked.

            When Lucas didn’t answer, still hiding his fast against Barry’s shoulder, Michael spoke up instead, and named the show he knew Lucas had been binging.  Len found it, and then went to the last episode seen on the Netflix account.  He asked Luke if that was the right one, but once again he didn’t respond.

            “We can start playing it now, if you want,” Len said to him anyway, “we can watch for a few minutes before Caitlin starts.”

            Lucas nodded, so Len hit play.  After a minute Lucas even looked up enough to watch the screen, and he calmed down a little bit.  He wasn’t really paying much attention to the show, but it was a background noise that had absolutely nothing to do with his current situation, and that helped.

            “OK, Luke, I’m going to put it in now,” Caitlin said after Lucas’s breathing had evened out and he’d stopped crying.  It started again as soon as she said that, and he all but curled into a ball, shaking his head.

            It took another five minutes for Len and Barry to convince him to give Caitlin his arm.  And then he pulled it back at the last second anyway.  Another five minutes of talking and coercing and finally Caitlin was able to insert the needle.  Lucas spent the following five minutes begging them to take it back out.  It got to the point where Lucas tried to take it out himself, and Barry grabbed his hand to stop him.  And with that, Lucas froze for one second, and then went into a complete panic attack, crying, hyperventilating, fighting them.  Terror washed over him, and almost more important than getting the IV out was not making them let go of him. 

            “Luke, you have to leave it in,” Barry said, “Luke, look at me.  It’s OK.  Everything is OK, but you have to leave it in.  You’re going to hurt yourself worse.  Just look at me, it’s OK.  It’s OK.”

            Barry’s voice had taken on a desperate tinge and Lucas was sobbing, and Barry was holding his hand, gripped tightly in his own as Lucas tried to pull it away.  It had Barry’s stomach doing flips, and he was starting to panic, could feel himself starting to panic.  When he had offered to go with him, when on the phone had told Lucas he would go to Star Labs too, he hadn’t been anticipating this.  Normally Len went with Lucas, and all the kids, to have anything medical done, because Barry panicked too easily around medical procedures and equipment.  But it was just supposed to be a few tests, a couple of needles maybe, and Barry could handle that.  He wasn’t supposed to have to hold Lucas’s hand so he wouldn’t rip out an IV, not when Barry knew all too well how awful and how panic inducing it was to have someone hold you down.  He never wanted to make his son feel that way, and it sickened him to think about, made a gut wrenching snap in his stomach.  And Barry knew that Lucas was terrified of being held down now, but if he let go Lucas would rip the IV out.  At best they’d have to insert it all over again.  At worse he’d rip it out forcefully enough and badly enough that he’d tear the skin to the point of needing stitches.  He didn’t know what to do, caught in the middle.

            “Let go, let go, I need it out, let go!” Lucas yelled.  Caitlin held his other wrist, which he was trying to bang and drag against the bed and his side, anything to dislodge the needle.

            Michael left the room, walked to the bathroom, and threw up.  He could still hear Lucas yelling, could hear him yelling now and in his head, yelling at them to let him go, yelling that they had to stop, begging Michael to make them stop.  When he stopped throwing up he slid down against the bathroom wall and put his head in his hands.

            Len took Lucas’s hand from Barry, held it still with one hand and placed the other on Barry’s back. 

            “It’s OK, Luke,” he said, his voice calm and steady, “it’s OK.  It’s just for a little longer.  You’re OK.”

            He kept repeating it while Lucas fought them, trying to pull his hand free.  Barry started to almost plead with him, and then Len squeezed his shoulder, they exchanged a glance, and Barry went silent.  He sat there, rubbing Lucas’s shoulder gently, while Len kept saying the same words in the same calm, gentle tone, until Lucas stopped struggling and just cried.  Caitlin gently let go of his hand after ten minutes.  Len kept Lucas’s hand in his though.

            By the time it was time to take the IV out Lucas had finally stopped crying.  He winced and looked away and whimpered when she took it out, and then he was getting up, almost as soon as it was done.

            “I wanna go home,” he mumbled, “I wanna go home.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So everything went to shit again - don't worry, Lucas IS going to get better. I promise I'm working on making the next chapter more comfort than hurt. As always though, please let me know what you think of the story so far! I really appreciate all of your comments, and thank you to everyone who has commented already :)
> 
> Also, a side note on BMI and Lucas's underweight status, if you're curious: In my head, although I didn't put it into this chapter, Lucas is currently 5 foot 8 inches tall (at this point in time he's still growing) and I'm basing his weight off percentiles for 15 year old boys - basically, BMI is different for children, in that it is normal, depending on age and gender, for BMI to be lower than it is for adults. His current weight puts him at a BMI of 16, which is super underweight if you're over eighteen but less underweight if you're a 15 year old guy. Also, BMI is inherently problematic when determining a healthy weight, and I am not at all a doctor, so this weight may be either more or less unhealthy than I make it out to be in the fic. Also, I'm not at all sure that this is how Caitlin or any doctor would realistically respond to this, but for all intents and purposes of this fic, it was absolutely necessary for Lucas to get an IV, otherwise, as Caitlin is aware that it's stress that's causing this, she would not have suggested he get an IV. I think sometimes in my fics it can seem like they're not taking account of this, and making people get procedures they don't actually need. That is entirely the medical implausibility of me the author, not a reflection of the characters, primarily Caitlin's, reactions. They all want what's best for Lucas, and are aware of his fear, and anything they have him do is because it's absolutely necessary.
> 
> Anyway, thank you again for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Please let me know what you thought! Comments make my day and I really appreciate them. Thanks for reading!


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